


0800-DRCY-LWS

by Pollydoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers dials an epic wrong number; but maybe – just maybe – it was the right number all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The First Call

“Oh baby, yes – just like that. Just like that – keep going, keep going. Oh-“

“Darcy?”

The brunette slapped a hand over her cell phone and motioned urgently at Jane to go away. The little scientist put her hands on her hips and tilted her head expectantly. Darcy motioned harder. Jane sighed and tapped her watch – or at least, where she would have had a watch, had she not misplaced it somewhere – indicating for Darcy to wrap it up. 

Rolling her eyes, Darcy turned back to the cell phone. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

“You know, I don’t actually pay you to make sex calls in the lab, Darce.” Jane said conversationally over lunch. 

“You don’t pay me at all, Jane,” Darcy answered easily, snagging the last smoked salmon wrap and chewing on it thoughtfully before continuing. “That’s why I have to do it.” She made a kissy face at her boss, screwing up her face comically until the other woman laughed, then relaxing again back into her seat. 

“Anyway, I don’t make them, I take them.” She pointed out, pouring Jane a glass of pink lemonade before fixing one for herself. She slid the glass over to Jane who accepted it gracefully, then slugged her own back. Smacking her lips and tasting the sugar against her teeth. “Big difference.”

Jane looked at her doubtfully over her glass. “I dunno, Darce. It’s still dirty old men breathing at you down the phone and saying-“ She paused, scrunching up her face as she considered the possibilities. “Well, I don’t know what they’re saying, and quite frankly I don’t want to find out.” She shook her shoulders as if chasing the thought away, and Darcy laughed. 

“It’s not all dirty old men.” Darcy protested, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Jane gave her a look, all arched eyebrow and don’t-give-me-that-crap-Lewis in her serious brown eyes. “Ugh, okay. It’s mainly dirty old men.” They both giggled. “But.” She said, raising a finger and gestured for Jane to quiet. “An important distinction. It’s only talk. Nothing else.”

“Darce-“

“No, listen – it’s like, the perfect job.” Darcy stood up in her enthusiasm, narrowly missing knocking over her half-full glass of lemonade. Jane grabbed at it, laughing, and clutched it to her, protecting her own at the same time. “Number one – no commitment. You know I am not down with the commitment.” She pointed at Jane, who nodded in agreement. 

“This is the only job you have stuck at, and I am the only non-familial relationship you have that’s lasted longer than six months.” She acknowledged, raising her glass and toasting Darcy as she spoke. 

“Amen to that, sister.” Darcy bowed her head in return. “Number two – I don’t have to dress up for work.” 

They both paused at that, and looked over what the brunette intern was wearing. Jeans with rips that hadn’t been there when she’d bought them; patches and stains it would be best no one looked too closely into. Her t-shirt, loose, decorated with bright cartoon cats, dropped from one shoulder and exposed her bra-strap to the world. If she bent over too far at the waist, there was a chance someone looking would also see the rest of her sky-blue bra. Her brunette hair, whilst in some circles could be considered as tumbling across her shoulders was, in more realistic terms, in need of a good shampoo and blow dry. 

“Hmmmm.” Jane said, and stifled a giggle. Darcy on the other hand, was more than happy to laugh at herself. She shrugged, knocking back more lemonade. 

“Number three.” She continued, tone serious though the sparkle in her eyes somewhat ruined the effect. “I get to practice my wide and varied range of accents.” Jane nodded in agreement and Darcy spread her arms wide. 

“That’s so true.” Jane said around a mouthful of hummus and cucumber. “Your Moroccan is second to none.” 

“I know, right? The Balinese needs a little work but I’m getting there.”

The girls dissolved into further giggles. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

“Cap, I’m telling you. Everybody does it, nothing to be ashamed of.” Steve looked up from his paperwork blearily and half-registered that Stark was talking to him. In fact, judging by the look on the other man’s face, had been talking to him for some time. 

“Is that so.” He offered, tone even and hedging his bets. It never did to be too enthusiastic about the things Tony said, even if you’d been listening properly from the beginning. 

“It’s the purest form of therapy.” Stark sat himself on Steve’s desk, right across the paperwork. Sighing, Steve put his pen down and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. The mission brief would have to wait, apparently. That or Stark’s ass would suddenly become a much larger feature. 

“Therapy.” He said flatly. “You want me to go to therapy?” 

“Not go to therapy.” Stark laughed and clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wincing slightly as the muscle stayed firm underneath his hand. “No one wants to go to therapy, sit in a little circle and listen to other people’s boring little stories. Where’s the fun in that?” Steve shook his head, assuming that somewhere in the midst of Stark’s speech there was a point he was getting at. 

He wasn’t sure that therapy was supposed to be fun. 

“No, this is like… Self-therapy. Just you, a phone, a friendly voice and, you know. Release of tension.” Stark ran his eyes over the Captain’s face, noting the tired pull to the edge of his eyes and the tense way the other man held his shoulders. He shook his head. It just wasn’t good for a man to sit that ramrod straight all the time. 

Steve made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and, picking up his pen again, motioned for Stark to exit the table area. He went with a sigh, but turned and pulled a plain white card from inside his jacket, leaning forward and pushing it neatly into Steve’s top pocket. He patted it. 

“Give it a whirl, Cap. You never know, you might like it.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

“Hey baby.” The voice on the end of the phone practically purred. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Hope you’ve been thinking hard about me-“

Steve promptly yelped in response and dropped the phone, fingers fumbling frantically as it hit his chest and slid. He caught it just as it was about to catapult off his knee, and brought it back to his ear, swallowing hard. 

“I, uh-“ He stuttered. 

“Baby? You there?” The sultry voice at the end of the phone faltered and Steve cringed. He’d clearly dialled the wrong number and this, this, girl – no, woman, he thought. Definitely woman. He put a hand to his face, covering his eyes. She thought he was her husband or boyfriend or god knows what. 

“Ma’am, I-“ He tried again, focusing on keeping his voice to one pitch. 

“Ma’am?” The voice at the end of the phone sounded amused. “That, I have to admit, is a new one.”

“I- it is?” He asked, despite himself. 

“Well yeah, soldier. Where did you pop up from? The ‘40s?” He could hear the smile in the voice as it vibrated through the speaker in his phone. Kid, he thought, shaking his head. You have no idea. 

“Miss, I am extremely sorry but I appear to have dialled your number by accident so I’ll just-“

Laughter spilled from the speaker and, despite himself and the growing blush across his face, Steve thought, under other circumstances, he’d do a lot to hear that laugh. There was something… unburdened… about it. “Oh honey, that’s what they all say. Is this your first time?” 

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, then at the number printed on the other-wise plain white card in his other hand. The two numbers were definitely the same. He put the phone back to his head and exhaled. The voice on the other end was silent, expectant. 

“Uh. Miss?” He began, slowly. “I’m not sure whether I’ve…” He trailed off, not really sure what he was trying to say. It was beginning to dawn on him that he might well have been set up by Stark, but he still wasn’t really quite sure how or indeed why. 

“Dude – you do realise you’ve called a sex line, right?” All pretence at sultriness had disappeared from the voice on the phone. Steve revised his earlier opinion. Now she sounded much more like a girl. He thought, fleetingly, that actually he preferred this voice to the one she’d answered with. Then his brain kicked in and registered what she’d said. 

“I’ve called a what?”

The voice at the other end laughed. Hard. 

“Oh man, you are priceless.” 

Steve didn’t know specifically what a sex line was, but he could hazard a few guesses and none of them made him any less embarrassed. They did make him consider a number of different ways in which he was going to murder Stark, starting slowly and working his way up to full water-boarding. Natasha would probably want in on it. She’d have some ideas to add. 

“I – oh god. A friend gave me this number, he said it was for – well, it’s really not important what he said it was for, because quite clearly you are not it. And he is quite possibly no longer a friend.” Steve stuttered out his words, mind still half on how he was going to get revenge. 

The girl laughed again. Steve sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair with his free hand. He could hear a snap and fizz at the other end of the phone; sounded like she’d cracked open a can. “Oh, jeez.” She said lightly, giggling. “This is probably the best call I’ve ever gotten on this line. And I’m including the time that one guy pretended to be a dog for twenty minutes.”

They both fell silent. Steve considering what to make of a man who liked to pretend to be a dog and pay for the pleasure, and the girl waiting on him to answer in some way. After a minute or two, she spoke again. “You okay there?”

“Don’t mind me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m just thinking of a few ways to get my own back.”

“Oh yeah?” The voice was suddenly interested. “Like how?”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I don’t know yet.” He mused, picking up his previously discarded pen and doodling absent-mindedly across the jotter on his desk. A tiny version of Iron Man appeared from the clean white sheet. An Iron Man who was being electrocuted by the lightning emanating from Thor’s hammer. He looked at it, head tilted, considering. “I have a few ideas, one of which involves a friend who’s… Good with electricity.” 

“Man, I’m not sure that’s the way to go.” She sounded doubtful. 

“You think?”

“Yeah. I once shot a couple hundred volts through this one guy, still hangs around even now. Can’t seem to shake him. Between you and me, I think he liked it.” 

“Is that so.” He answered, smiling. Her voice was serious as she spoke, and it amused him. Another Iron Man appeared at the side of the first one, this time being choked out by Natasha’s thighs. Frowning, he crossed a line through that one. Tony would have way too much fun in that scenario. 

“Yup. Clearly not as fool-proof a method as one might have thought. What else you got?”

Steve thought hard, and his pen danced across the page again in response. Barton appeared alongside a little Iron Man who was strung upside down and dangling by his feet. “I have another friend who’s good with a bow and arrow?”

“Old school, I like it.” She sounded approving. “Go Palaeolithic on his ass.” 

He laughed again, despite himself. He could hear the grin in her voice as she spoke. It occurred to him that he’d not laughed so much in one conversation since- Well. He wasn’t really sure. It was an odd feeling. He thought maybe he kind of liked it. 

“So what did you think you were calling?” The girl asked inquisitively, and he could hear the creak of a chair as she sat down. Unwittingly he imagined her, some faceless girl, folding herself down into a comfy chair, phone nestled against her head as she waited on him to answer. He paused, and she must have picked up on it because she followed it up quickly with a disclaimer. “I mean, if I can ask that.” 

“I, uh- huh.” Steve sucked in a breath, massaging the back of his neck with his free hand and thinking how to answer. He caught sight of himself in the mirror opposite his desk. Cheeks less flushed now, but eyes bright. “Well. My uh, my so-called friend-“

“Re-calibration of acquaintance level pending.” She interjected. 

He laughed again, throwing his head back and settling further into his chair. His feet found their way up onto the desk, something he almost never did. “Right. So he thought it would be a good idea for me to, uh, do a little therapy.” Steve found himself biting his lip as he finished, unsure exactly why. As if he wanted to impress this disembodied voice somehow. As if he didn’t want to admit he might need something like therapy. His reflection, gazing out at him from his computer screen, wrinkled its nose back at him and he tilted his head to one side, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder. 

“Hey, man.” The voice was quiet. “It’s okay.”

Steve was surprised to find himself letting out a breath he’d not realised he’d been holding. 

“We all need someone to talk to, every now and again. That’s all therapy is, dude.” She paused, and then continued in a hesitant tone. “Nothing to be ashamed about.” 

He coughed at that, awkward and suddenly uncomfortable with the knowledge that this little voice, this unknown girl at the end of phone line and on a wrong number, had sussed him so quickly. That she had figured the words that he’d been unable to express yet properly to himself. 

She cleared her throat then also, apparently picking up on his discomfort. “You should probably hang up now. This stuff costs a fortune.” She snorted. “Actually, real therapy costs a lot less.” 

“Well it was nice to, um, meet you. Miss.” Steve said, automatically – manners drummed into him a lifetime ago and half a world away it seemed, still kicking in – and was slightly surprised to realise he actually meant the words. 

“You too.” It was his imagination all over it, but he told himself she sounded like she meant it when she said it too. “Good luck getting your revenge.” She added, mischievously. “Call back if you want any other ideas.”

“I might just do that.” He teased, knowing he wouldn’t be calling again. He was still smiling after he’d hit the cancel button.


	2. Pocket Dial

To be fair, Darcy did often encounter cursing when she picked up the phone; especially when it came to the sex line calls. Jane was able to swear up a storm when she felt like it as well, something that never failed to make Darcy laugh when she heard it, mainly because it was liberally peppered with things that Jane thought were curse words. She also liked to remember the look on Phil Coulson’s face when Jane had let rip. People might expect to be cursed at. They might even expect to have the circumstances of their birth brought into question. But it’s a rare person who’d expect to be labelled a thundering cock monkey. 

This however, was wonderfully descriptive and exceedingly anatomically specific.

“Holy hell dude, that’s quite a mouth you have there.” 

The other end of the line paused, and she listened, waiting on his next move. It turned out to be another curse word, but this time it was slightly muted as though he was desperate to say it but trying hard not to let her hear him. It was the sound of a curse word as filtered through a hand over the receiver. She grinned. 

“I’m, uh, sorry.” The voice said tightly, and something about it sounded familiar. 

“Wrong number guy?” She asked, tilting her head to one side and drawing her knees up and under herself as she perched on the lab bench. Idly she watched as Jane fiddled with the duct tape that was straining under the pressure of trying to hold together her latest homemade scientific doo-hickey. Darcy winced as it crackled under the other woman’s touch, emitting electric blue sparks that she was fairly sure weren’t intentional. It crossed her mind to wonder whether the lab was specifically built to withstand the inevitable fall out from a malfunctioning wormhole, but then again, Dr. Banner worked in the next room along. 

If the place could withstand a Hulk, it ought to be able to withstand a Jane. 

Probably. 

“Sex line girl? I mean- I didn’t- oh, shit.” She laughed, throwing her head back as she did so, amused at the sheer panic in his voice as he caught himself. He graced her with a short laugh, rueful over the airwaves. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He said, voice careful and measured. “And I didn’t actually mean to call you.”

“And here I was thinking you were hitting me up for more revenge ideas.” Darcy teased, grabbing a cloth in her left hand as she tucked the phone between her right shoulder and ear; running it quickly under the tap at the sink behind her, and tossing it one-handed to Jane who threw it haphazardly over the sparking contraption. “I was re-reading Sun Tzu’s Art of War and everything.” 

He laughed, a genuine full laugh this time, and it drew a smile from Darcy to hear it. 

“Re-reading, huh?” His voice was light, with a hint of a tease laced through it. 

“You can’t call yourself a master tactician without it.” She deadpanned in return. 

“I guess not.” 

“So what’s up with the swear-storm?” Darcy settled back onto the desk, half her attention on the phone and the rest of it running over Jane as she fiddled with the controls on her new toy. The duct tape was starting to peel from one side and the cloth she’d thrown across it was starting to smoke slightly on the left hand side. Darcy braced herself. 

“Oh.” He sounded resigned on the other end of the phone. “I can’t get the computer to work. I was a little – uh – frustrated. I think I caught the phone by accident, I didn’t mean to call you.” Darcy could kind of picture it, even though he was faceless and featureless. Some dude just freaking out at his computer because it wouldn’t work the way he wanted it to. 

“Well, I’ve had weirder starts to phone calls. And that’s not even taking into consideration the sex calls.”

“Like what?” He sounded sceptical. 

“Oh, you know,” Darcy said idly, thinking about Selvig and some of the phone calls she’d had from him late at night raving on about Asgard and quantum convergence measurements. They’d become even more inventive after London and everything that had gone down there. Although, possibly, she could really date it from post-New York. That whole thing had really done a number on Erik. “Some of it’s just… outta this world.”

Wrong-Number-Guy snorted. “I can sympathise with that, actually.” 

“So your computer’s not playing ball?” She asked lightly, opting not to probe deeper into a guy who’d confessed he was considering therapy and could apparently sympathise with odd phone calls. More than half of her was desperate to know what he needed therapy for, and a not inconsiderable part of her – mainly the lower regions, which appeared to be solely controlled by her ears, considering she’d only ever heard the guy’s voice – was quite interested in knowing whether horizontal therapy might help work out his kinks. 

Kinks. Dear god. Darcy smothered her base instinct in a metaphorical cold shower and forced herself to pay attention to his answer. 

“Does it ever?” She could practically hear his eyes rolling as he spoke, and stifled a laugh. Some people just aren’t down with the technology, she thought to herself. 

“Well, strap in, buddy – the world’s most expensive tech support is available for you right now.” She paused, and reconsidered. “Actually, I take it back. You ever called Stark Industries tech support? Man, I swear that’s where that dude makes all his money. And they never know what they’re talking about either.”

He laughed at that, more than was really appropriate for the joke. 

“So, computing one-oh-one.” She said, pulling her own laptop towards herself and still keeping a weather eye on Jane. Boss lady was pulling levers and twiddling knobs like there was no tomorrow, and Darcy couldn’t help but notice that the cloth was smoking harder than it had been before. “Is it plugged in?”

“Uh-“ There was a scrambling sound and Darcy closed her eyes, realising that he was literally dropping to his knees to check. “Yeah, yeah it’s all plugged in.” 

She resisted the urge to face-palm. “Is the socket switched on?” Another pause. 

“Um.”

She smiled to herself, shaking her head. Maybe he was an old guy with a young sounding voice? If she’d gone off the voice alone, she would have pitched him around thirty, maybe a shade younger. If that were true, he must have grown up in some home-schooled environment without computer access. Surely no one around her age would be so adorably off-kilter. 

“I would have to recommend flicking that switch and trying again.” There was a heavy sigh at the other end of the phone. 

“I’m a grade A idiot, aren’t I?” She could hear him settle back into a chair, she guessed it was probably a desk chair in front of the presumably now-working computer. Darcy imagined the corner of his mouth quirking up as he said it. He started to say something else which she lost under the noise of a loud bang from the other side of the room. Darcy yelped and threw herself off the desk and under it, looking up as a large chunk of metal – previously attached to Jane’s machine – thudded into the wall above her. 

“Hold the line, please.” She said into the cell phone before throwing it down and scrambling commando style across the floor towards Jane. The other girl was sitting wide-eyed in front of the smoking remains of her experiment. Darcy popped up next to her, resting on her knees. There was a dark smudge across Jane’s nose and the collar of her lab coat was smouldering slightly. Darcy hesitantly reached out and patted it out. 

“Seriously, Foster?” She said, with wide eyes – as though this wasn’t a dance they’ve acted out a hundred times before.

“I think it worked, Darce.” Jane was looking past her at the smoulder machine, ignoring the fact that she’d just watched her experiment combust in front of her own face. Darcy turned slowly to face the remnants of the contraption, and grimaced. It was hanging together by shreds of duct tape and melted metal. As she gave it the once over, a glob of blackened steel bubbled then dropped to the desk. It sizzled and burned its way half into the desk and Darcy took a half step back from the table. 

“I think it blew up, Jane.” She said, head tilted to one side. 

“Yeah. But before that. I saw- I’m pretty sure I saw-“ Jane pushed at her shoulder, shoving her gently but firmly out of the way and reaching for the smoking mess. Darcy caught the other girl’s wrists in one hand and silently passed her a pair of latex gloves with the other. Jane looked down at the offered safety gear dazedly, then nodded – mostly to herself – but at least began to pull them on. 

Darcy, shaking her head, retreated back to her cell phone. 

“Sorry about that.”

“S’Okay.” She was slightly amazed that he was still hanging on the end of the phone. Didn’t he realise how much this was costing him? She shoved back the pleased feeling that rose in her chest when she realised he was still waiting for her to come back. 

“I have a boss who likes to blow stuff up in the name of scientific research.” She offered, by way of explanation. 

“Oh, so you’re not- I mean, you don’t just- I-“ 

“Calm down before you hurt yourself.” She giggled at the way he tripped and stumbled over his words in his haste to not offend her. “What I guess you mean to say is, hey, Darce, you don’t just talk dirty to old men for money, huh? What an interesting life you must lead. Battle tactics, science, computers and field medicine. And all in addition to sex talk.” 

“Your name is Darce?” His voice was hesitant on the line. 

She bit her lip. Hard. Wrong number guy had an awesome voice, was sweet and acted like he’d been dropped into the twenty first century by way of a time slip, but it still wasn’t her aim to tell anyone on this line her real name. The holy grail of all slip ups. 

“I, um-“ It was her turn to stutter. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to- Well. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“You weren’t prying.” She said firmly, more firmly than she really felt about it, but an awkward silence fell between them anyway. She bit her lip again and tasted blood in her mouth. Sighing internally, and figuring that she’d already dropped herself in it so might as well keep on digging until she hit metaphorical Australia. “It’s Darcy. Or Darce. Whichever.” 

“S’pretty name.” 

He offered it, almost shyly, as though he were saying it more to himself than to her. 

She paused, and was uncomfortably aware that her cheeks were hot and flushed, even from that quiet little admission on the end of the phone. Jane, looking up from the remnants of her machine, pushing back long strands of light brown hair and inadvertently wiping a long grease smear across her forehead, threw her an arched eyebrow. Darcy could feel the judgement from across the room, and turned away from the look, staring hard at the laptop screen in front of her, yet taking in nothing. 

“Um. Thanks.” She said quietly. 

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

“No, it’s not- I, uh. Huh. So how did you get back at your friend, anyway?” She switched the topic with all the ease of a hippo trying to fit in a bathtub but he took the world’s worst hint and ran with it.

“Still working on it.” 

“What happened to arrow guy?” Darcy asked, tapping at her laptop to distract herself from the voice on the other end of the phone, and bringing up the latest news page. 

“Ah, he says he’s retired.”

“There’s only one thing for it then.” She said, flicking through pages until something interesting popped up. She ran her eyes over the page before continuing. “It’s time to fix up a fake dating profile with a super-hot girl and stick his phone number on it. Let him get bombarded with horny guys looking for a quick fix.”

He choked at the other end of the phone. 

“Do people- do men really- does that happen?” 

Darcy chuckled. “If you only knew how much money I make off this. Imagine if guys thought they might be able to get it for free.” Her fingers tapped through the news pages, settling on an article about the Avengers. Thor, Jane would be gratified to note, was front and centre of the photograph that graced the middle of the page, though she might be slightly less impressed to see that the reporter had declared him the hottest eligible superhero. 

“That’s- Well. I guess it would work.” He sounded hesitant. Darcy scrolled further on the page in front of her. Jane might be mollified by the fact that Captain America was running a very close second, according to the reader poll. She snorted. Blond and muscled; that seemed to be the order of the day. She wasn’t about to argue with the women of America, though spangled spandex wasn’t specifically her bag. 

“Well,” She said, remembering the man on the phone. “It’s that or itching powder in his suit.”

“He does have a liking for suits.” Wrong-number-guy brightened up considerably. 

“I think you finally found your revenge niche.” She found the corners of her mouth twitching despite her best efforts, and attempted to mentally slap herself. One does not become attracted to a voice. One certainly does not become attracted to a voice that rang a sex line. One especially does not become attracted to a voice that accidentally rang a sex line not once, but twice. 

And was adorably clueless whilst doing it. 

Shut UP, Darcy. 

“I, uh, I’d better go.” He sounded slightly regretful, though Darcy thought she was probably imagining that. 

“Sure, of course.” She responded brightly. Too brightly. This time she slapped a physical hand to her actual forehead. Metaphorical wasn’t cutting it anymore. Could you BE any more obvious, Lewis? “Amazon. Amazon is good for itching powder. Especially if you have Prime. Next day delivery and… Stuff.” She offered, lamely. 

“Experienced?” His voice was amused. 

“Purely research purposes.” She answered. “Obviously. I’m very busy and important. I would never need to accidentally throw itching powder down the back of an open shirt collar belonging to a man who insisted upon pursuing unwanted advances in the workplace.” 

“Remind me not to accidentally get on your bad side.” He said drily, and Darcy laughed. “It’s Steve, by the way.” He added softly, and she pulled up short in the midst of giggling. 

“Sorry?”

“Steve. My name- It’s Steve.” He stumbled, less confident now. Darcy inhaled sharply. 

“Okay. Steve. I- I guess, see you around?” She said slowly, and dug a fingernail into the bare skin on her wrist in an attempt to ground herself. It didn’t really work, not with her still able to hear his breath on the other end of the phone line. Breath that hitched slightly at her words. 

“Yeah,” He said. “Sounds good.” With that, he hung up and Darcy let herself collapse back on the bench, flat out and the phone clutched to her chest.


	3. Re-Dial

Steve opened the door to his apartment and practically fell through it.

He trudged his tired way to the bedroom, making a quick pass by the kitchen to raid the fridge and snagging a pint of milk, some left over chicken wings and what was left of a large pepperoni pizza after Sam had been at it the previous night. He’d finished all but the milk by the time he hit the mattress.

Lying on his back on top of the covers, still suited and booted, he sighed heavily into the darkness. He let the shield slide off his arm and winced slightly as it thunked onto the floor. Crossing mental fingers that whoever was below him was either out – doubtful, he thought, glancing at the clock radio on his bedside cabinet which helpfully flashed at him that it was indeed 2am – or at least a heavy sleeper.

Sitting up slightly he chugged the rest of the carton of milk, noting with a lack of interest the sour taste it had, and then threw it haphazardly across the room. It hit the wall, then the rim of the waste bin, and bounced off through the open door way back into the living room. He couldn’t find it in himself to get up and chase it back. It would keep until morning. Later in the morning, at any rate.

He’d not bothered to put any lights on, the serum still coursing around his system seventy years on allowing him to find his way easy enough in the dark and the lights that dazzled from the city through his open windows. Steve stared up at the ceiling, listened to the noise of the city filtering through and tried not to think about the faces of the people he hadn’t been able to save.

Wiping a hand across his eyes, then rubbing at them until he saw bright spots, he tried to clear his mind and epically failed. Every time he closed them, flashes of the mission they’d just completed burned across the backs of his eyelids and into his brain. Fire. Screaming. Children. He’d done as much as he could, more, Natasha had insisted in a low voice as she laid a soft hand against his shoulder as they sat in relative quiet on the Quinjet as they’d flown back home; more than anyone else would have been able to do.

It wasn’t enough.

It was never, really, enough.

Natasha had slipped off as they’d landed, murmuring something about a rendezvous that he’d assumed – though would never dare to say – had something to do with Barton, who’d been stationed elsewhere on some undercover job. Sam had taken one step off the jet and almost collapsed from exhaustion, so Steve had ordered him to pack up his wings and sent him home to sleep it off. Tony had been welcomed back by Pepper, still awake, her strawberry blonde hair tangling in the wind as she wrapped her arms around herself, and waiting on the landing pad for them to set the jet down safely. She’d clutched at him, movements desperate and loving all in one, and it was the only time Steve would ever see Stark lost for words.

Thor had been making excuses to get back to his scientist girlfriend even before they’d re-entered the Northern Hemisphere.The way he told it, she was the only reason the Earth still bothered to get up in the morning and keep on spinning. Tony had made gagging noises at his overtures but Steve had smiled. It was nice to have someone. Especially if that someone were waiting up for you, ready to wrap warm arms around you and hold you close, wipe the nightmares and the bad dreams from your head.

And then there was Steve.

Sloping off back alone to his own apartment in the Tower, eating leftover food and milk that tasted as though it might have gone out of date as much as a week ago. He grimaced in the dark, chasing the taste around the inside of his mouth, and reflected that at least Erskine’s formula would keep him from developing anything nasty from it. There was, however, little the serum could do for the vile sensation of what felt like curdled cheese that had been left against his tongue and he wished he’d saved some of the pizza at least to follow it up with.

He couldn’t find it in himself to roll off the mattress and find some water to clear his mouth.

Steve supposed he really ought to strip out of the uniform, at the very least. He could feel at least three tears in it, one particularly long rip from collarbone to bicep, and there was a distinct amount of smoke and charred ashes clinging to the material. He lifted one arm experimentally and sighed as a shadow copy of it was revealed stained onto the covers. He curled a lip, knowing exactly how horrified his ma would be if she could see the state of him – and that wasn’t even allowing for her to spot the pile of unwashed dishes loitering in the sink – and felt a hot flush of shame roll across his cheeks.

As he was contemplating how poorly he’d managed to construct this second life of his, he became uncomfortably aware that, amongst the honking of traffic and the clashing sounds of music he could hear on the night air, he could also hear the rhythmic movements of a mattress, coupled with increasingly loud moaning that shortly developed into full on shouting. It seemed his neighbours were unconcerned with the late hour. Steve clapped a large hand over his forehead and groaned, still not quite enough to induce him to lift his exhausted bulk off the bed and close the windows to shut out the noise.

It continued.

Enthusiastically.

Rolling his head back and doing his level best to shut his ears to it, wincing slightly with every thump and squeak of the mattress, he suddenly felt incredibly alone.

His left hand felt blindly at his utility belt, fumbling at the catch and drawing out a small blinking device. His phone. The one that Tony had insisted he needed. As he looked at it, held tentatively between forefinger and thumb, it vibrated merrily and he nearly dropped it in surprise. 

Squinting at the bright light, he registered that he had three messages awaiting his eyes to consider them. Thumbing across the screen he entered his passcode – remembering how Tony had clapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation, and how he’d protested in response that it was hardly his fault he’d been born on the Fourth of July – and the first appeared jovially on the phone in front of him.

Barton:  
Hey man. Don’t suppose you could dog-sit next weekend? I have a thing.

He snorted. Messages from Barton tended to involve food, drink or the dog. Very occasionally all three, though that was a scenario of which he’d learned, from hard experience, to keep well clear. Steve suspected that Natasha might receive slightly more creative wording from the archer. He stared at the words on the screen, and sighed. The only thing he’d ever encountered that ate more than him was Barton’s dog. Steve decided that one could wait until he was showered and rested. He swiped again.

Romanoff:  
You did everything you could, Rogers. We all did. That’s all that can be asked.

He checked the time on the message. She’d sent it shortly before they’d even taken off for the homeward bound flight. He frowned. She knew him – and his guilt complex – a little too well for his liking. He wasn’t sure entirely how comfortable he was with that, despite their closeness. He’d just about managed to evade Tony’s unique brand of therapy with his dignity intact - more or less - he didn't think he'd survive Natasha’s. He swiped for the final message.

Stark:  
Capsicle. You still seem tense. Did you not call that number yet?

Speak of the devil and lo, he shall appear, Steve thought to himself with a grimace. Bearing irritating nicknames and unsolicited advice. He wanted to feel a spark of anger at Stark’s presumption, at his attempt to embarrass Steve, and to be fair it was still a small flame burning somewhere in the back of his chest. Perhaps slightly more than a small flame, now he came to think on it at a little more. 

But mainly he just thought of Darcy. 

His eidetic memory replayed for him their previous conversations, the play of her laugh and the way she’d earnestly directed him to revenge methods he’d seriously considered but not yet had a chance to implement. The easy manner in which she spoke, without airs or graces, without presumption. 

Steve crooked a smile in the darkness.

Would it be so bad? To call her again? Something in the back of his head protested that dialling a girl who was making money off the phone call – who was expecting, actually, to tell him dirty things and perhaps even to hear them in return – was not a person he should be calling in the early hours as the night died and the dawn threatened to rise. Perhaps not somebody he should be calling at all. And yet-

And yet Steve was lonely. That was the truth or it. And he’d enjoyed the ease of Darcy’s voice, the way in which she’d helped him and not condescended to him. That was another true thing. It was hardly his fault he didn’t always remember how computers worked, he’d been born long before they’d ever been dreamed of as a household device – not that she knew that – and yet she’d still treated him like a regular person. Someone who mattered.

Despite himself, despite the Sam-like voice in the back of his head that protested vaguely and in an ever-increasingly small volume that girls like Darcy were paid to listen and make men feel whatever it was that they wanted to feel, he thumbed through his contacts, other hand resting behind his head as he stretched out on the bed, and found her number.

It rang.

Steve waited. 

It rang on. 

Steve began to feel nervous. 

It continued to ring. 

Steve found himself drumming his fingers against his thigh. 

It rang more, the tone buzzing gently against his ear drum as he cradled the phone to him and he counted - slowly - back from ten and promised himself that when it reached one he would hang up and that would be the end of Darcy. Eight. It wouldn’t do to get hung up over a girl he’d never even met. Seven. It was very late though. Six. Perhaps it was a little hasty to promise he’d never call her again, given the circumstances. Five. It wasn’t giving her a fair chance, after all. Four. Oh god Darcy, pick up-

“Well hello, sugar, what brings you to me so late?”

Steve hesitated, thrown very slightly by both his own tiredness, the fact that the ringing had stopped so abruptly after such a long time and in no small amount by the low Southern accent on the end of the phone. He pulled the phone from his ear briefly, just re-checking the phone number again before answering carefully. 

“Darcy?”

There was a pause, and during that infinitesimally small amount of time that somehow seemed to last an eternity and more, he managed to think of around five ways he could punish himself for being so stupid as to call back. Again.

“-Steve?” The voice this time was small, all traces of the accent dropped. He could hear, now he listened properly, the sleepiness in her tone as she said his name. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it's Steve.” He answered, and then realised he had precisely zero idea what to say to her. He was rewarded – and given a momentary reprieve – however, with a giggle, albeit a tired sounding one that was half broken by what sounded distinctly like a yawn.

“What, no swearing this time?” Darcy teased around the tail end of her yawn, playful at the other end of the line despite the late hour and he could hear her shifting as she spoke. It sounded as though she were in bed and he chastised himself. Of course she was in damn bed, normal people would be at this time of night. 

He realised she was waiting for an answer.

“I just-“ He blurted, then cut himself off, inhaled deeply and tried again. “I just wanted someone to talk to. Is- Is that okay?” He said, as hopelessly as he felt. “I know it’s not what you-“

“Are you okay?” Came the immediate response, cutting over him, and his mouth twitched upwards slightly to hear it. He could almost read concern into her voice and, though he knew he was stupid for doing it, it gave him a little comfort to believe that she was a little worried about him. Even if he was fooling himself into it. 

“I’m fine.” He said without thinking, the answer so automatic, so ingrained in him that it came from his mouth without him even really registering it properly. He felt like he'd been giving that answer since the 1930s. And since he’d been awoken to this new century; well. They needed him to be Captain America. They needed him to be fine. 

“Sure.” she said flatly. “Every guy that calls at 2am in the morning saying he needs someone to talk to is operating on a totally normal level.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes as she spoke, and then it hit him that he couldn’t even picture her eyes properly, having never met her. He wondered whether it would be completely out of line to ask her what colour they were, and decided quickly that – though he may know little about the world of sex-lines – that was surely not one of the included benefits. 

“Well if you put it that way.” He conceded, focusing again on the phone in his hand, this time allowing his mouth to move into a slow smile.

“What’s up?” Her little voice on the end of the phone was demanding, and he felt his heart jump a little inside his chest. He couldn’t work out if it was a nice feeling or not. 

“Did I wake you?” He asked suddenly, realising how rude it was to call at such an hour and to expect her to talk to him. 

“No, and stop deflecting.”

“Really?” He asked doubtfully.

“Dude, you’re up at this time of night, and somehow you’re questioning me? People can be night owls, you know.” She shot back, and he relaxed hearing the teasing tone that was edged all the way through her words. He let his shoulders fall back, reached up behind him to grab a pillow and yank it further down the bed to push under his head. “Some of us have been up late saving the world, you know.”

Steve raised his left hand, the one not cradling his phone to his ear as though it were the most precious thing he owned, and looked over the bloodstains and the jagged tear in the suit that was exposing rapidly healing skin. “Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “I guess some of us have been.”

“And then there’s the fact that my boss is also my roommate, and her boyfriend just got home. So…”

“Ah.” Steve said, realising where she was going with that as she trailed off. 

“Yup.” She finished, popping the P like it was gum. “Me and the other residents of the ten block radius around this apartment aren't getting much sleep tonight.” 

Right on cue, Steve’s own vocal neighbours appeared to get a second wind. He winced as the noises carried on the air. They were certainly making the most of the time they had, he thought. This time, he did manage to haul himself off the bed - leaving a dark smear of ash and god-knows-what else across the duvet cover - and slammed the window shut. 

“I know the feeling.” He said heavily into the phone, propping himself by the window and gazing out across the twinkling lights of the city. He wondered what the twenty first century etiquette was around approaching work colleagues and neighbours about the volume of their night-time activities. It wasn't something he'd ever had to consider back in the 30s. He supposed if it had ever come to it, he would have thrown whatever was closest to hand at Bucky, the other man would have laughed, and that would have been that. 

He considered for a moment, although he was still trying desperately not to focus on the sounds he could still hear, that unfortunately his neighbour sounded an awful lot like it might be Thor. If that were the case, he’d have to contend with not only twenty first century sexual manners but also whatever constituted the same in Asgard. Steve swallowed back a sigh and decided he’d just ask where he could get some industrial strength ear plugs instead. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Darcy said conversationally, and it sounded as though she were digging down into her pillow as she spoke. “Hearing other people getting it on, I mean. I swear they're just showing off. It can't possibly be all that amazing.” 

“Ma'am, if that's what you think then you've been doing it wrong.” He said without thinking and she burst into peals of laughter in response. He blushed instinctively, but found himself laughing along with her after a moment. 

“You know, I think that's supposed to be my line, soldier,” She said playfully, having gotten her laughter back under control. “What's with the ma’am stuff, anyway?” Steve pushed a hand through his hair, dishevelling it even further, if that were possible. He caught sight of his reflection in the glass in front of him, and let his hand fall from his hair to the back of his neck, massaging it as he stared back at himself. 

“I guess you could call me a little old-fashioned.” He came up with, a crooked smile edging at the corner of his mouth as his mind wandered off the path to pick at some slightly not-so-old-fashioned thoughts about Darcy and the way her voice sounded when she called him soldier. 

“So you're an old fashioned gentleman who also believes in having amazing, vocal sex?” He felt his neck start to burn under the rise of heat from his blush and was thankful that she couldn’t see it. “Where do I sign up for one of you, huh?”

“Ah, there's-“ Steve shook his head. “There's really only one of me.” 

“I’ll bet.” Darcy responded, and if her voice came across a little breathy then Steve chalked it up to his own imagination. “So,” She segued easily. “You’re calling at 2am. Now, I’m awake at 2am because my relatively shy and retiring lady boss slash roommate turns into some form of uninhibited wildcat when the big guy gets in, and for that reason I’m sleeping on the couch tonight because my bed rests on the opposite side of the wall that theirs does. What’s your excuse?”

“It’s been a long day.” Steve thought that was potentially the understatement of the century, then snorted to himself as he considered that he was the only one around truly able to judge the truth in that. 

“Work?” She asked, sympathetically, and he could hear in the background the rustle of what he guessed were bedclothes at her end.

“Yeah.” He offered slowly, not really knowing what else to say to her. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was Captain America and what Captain America in turn would spend his days doing was often reported in the press; and yet, he didn’t want to challenge whatever this was with this Darcy, this girl who made him smile and who seemed to like hearing his voice, with the complication that it would undoubtedly bring. 

“Hey, I bet your boss didn’t blow up half your work space accidentally, and then spend the rest of the afternoon recording the data from the fallout whilst you were trying to clear up the mess she’d made.” She said brightly, too brightly really, given the hour, and clearly in an attempt to cheer him up. Steve’s mind hovered fleetingly over the building that Tony had inadvertently destroyed whilst attempting to bounce his repulsor beam off Thor’s hammer, and winced at the memory.

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t call him my boss, per se-“

He was rewarded with a giggle that warmed him to hear, feet to heart.

“Lemme guess. This is the guy you want to get revenge on?”

“That transparent, huh?” He laughed again. 

“Not at all. I’m just that good at reading people.” She said instantly. “Hey, have you eaten today?”

“Uh, yes?” He answered, struggling to follow the quick-change thought process she’d jumped around. 

“That doesn't sound that convincing, Steven.” She said primly. “You need to eat properly.” 

He laughed. “I have eaten. It might not have been the most nutritious thing I'll ever eat, but I have eaten.”

Darcy made a noise that suggested heavily she didn’t entirely believe him, and for a second it was on the very edge of his tongue to tell her to grab her coat, that if she wanted to see him eat he’d take her to whatever restaurant she wanted. Then the more practical side of him slapped him firmly in the face and told him that was a truly idiotic idea. He didn’t even know where she lived, for a start. 

“Hey, you know, I don’t think you ever told me what you do. It’s a little uneven really, you know all about me.” She said, changing the subject once again. 

“Hardly,” He protested.

“C’mon,” Darcy snorted in return. “You know I’m wicked-awesome at computers, have a boss that needs constant supervision and a great telephone voice. What more could you possibly want to know?”

Everything, he thought instantly, and both his heart and brain clenched automatically at that revelation. Steve sat down heavily on the edge of his bed before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He wiped at his eye, hard, not stopping until he saw spots and was breathing hard to calm himself. Good lord, Rogers, his inner Bucky snapped. Pull yourself together. 

He closed his eyes. 

“Darcy, do you-“ He broke off, and collected himself again. “Do you ever… Find that you’re trying to help someone, or some people, and no matter what you do, it’s still not enough?”

She laughed softly, but it was without malice and he could hear in her voice that she wasn’t judging him.

“Oh god, Steve.” She said. “If only you knew.”

He cocked his head to one side and was about to ask what she meant by that, when he could hear other voices on the end of the phone. They were muffled, as though Darcy had put her hand over the phone, and Steve waited patiently for her to return to him. Eventually, she did. 

“Hey Steve,” She said softly. “I gotta go. Boss lady and the big guy are finally finished with their adult sleepover and want to catch up.” He started to politely protest, half-heartedly, that of course he didn’t mind and of course she was free to go, when she cut him off. 

“Look, I…” Darcy trailed off. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, so don’t let me down and turn out to be some freak stalker dude or something, but if you wanted to call again – I mean, if you’re lonely or, I don’t know, find yourself pacing your apartment at 2am again – you could always call my real number and save yourself some money.”

Steve found that words he wasn’t even aware of being able to say sticking in his throat, and made a choking sound in response. 

“You don’t have to call-“ She said hurriedly. 

“I want to,” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Darcy rewarded him with a chuckle at the other end of the phone. 

“Okay,” She said. “Okay.” As though she were convincing herself she wasn’t doing a stupid thing. 

“Right, well, if you want to, the number is (555) 826-1764.” The words came out quickly and Steve had never been more thankful for the memory Erskine’s serum had gifted him with, or he’d wouldn’t have had a cold hope in hell of catching it. “So that’s, that’s me.” She said, with finality. 

“I’ll call you.” He promised. She laughed. 

“Good night, Steve. Sleep well, okay?” 

With that, she hung up and he was left finding himself spread-eagled on the bed and clutching his phone to his chest like it was some kind of lifeline.


	4. Call, Interrupted

Darcy awoke reluctantly, limbs akimbo, half-on-half-off the couch. 

Her phone was still clutched in her right hand, keeping it possessively close to herself. Her arm was numb in places and starting to shock pins and needles, making her wince in pain and shake the offending limb, much good that it would do to shift the uncomfortable feeling. She must have curled her arm under herself during the scant time she’d been asleep, laid on it awkwardly and cut the circulation. 

She groaned as she inched her eyes open and immediately shut them tight again against the burn of the sunshine that edged through the open window. She raised one hand to massage at a throbbing temple and reflected on the unfairness of life that she could end up with what felt like a hangover headache without ever having touched a drop of alcohol the previous night. 

Darcy stretched, feeling her toes hit the other end of the couch and, leaving her phone balanced on her chest, she drew her arms up over her head and curled them backwards over the roll of the couch. Sneaking a glance at the screen in front of her, she tamped down the slight rise of disappointment when it stubbornly showed no calls or messages. It’s been like, four hours Darce, she reminded herself. Poor guy’s probably sleeping. 

Or freaked out that the sex-line-girl he’d misdialled was giving him her private number, unsolicited. Either way. 

“Good morning.” Jane breezed, practically skipping into the living room and toward the dining area. She wore both Thor’s shirt and a smile larger than the combined land mass of Canada. Darcy thrust the covers over her head in response. 

“I am led to believe it is, in fact, morning.” The duvet mumbled, and Jane paused at the fridge with one hip popped, glancing back over her shoulder at the huddled lump on the couch. “However,” the pile continued. “Good is clearly a matter of perspective.”

Jane rolled her eyes in response and went back to the fridge. 

\------

Steve woke, sleepy but with a smile on his face. 

He was crashed out on top of the bed still, hadn’t bothered to get under the covers; hadn’t even bothered to strip out of his suit. His boots were still on his feet, though thankfully he’d fallen asleep – lost consciousness might have been a better description, he thought, reflectively – half way down the mattress and they’d been hung off the end of the bed all night. 

He glanced at the bedside table where his clock radio was blinking at him. Scratch that. Where he’d been sleeping for all of about 4 hours. Steve winced slightly. He’d always had an overactive internal alarm clock, even before military life. He always rose around 6am, with or without a good night’s sleep. It was one of the few things he and Bucky had ever come to blows over. James Buchanan Barnes liked his sleep, and a lot of it. 

Steve resisted the urge to check his phone contacts, to make sure that it wasn’t a dream and that Darcy really had given him her number and told him he could call. He resisted for all of about two minutes before his fingers were sliding across the screen and scrolling quickly through the alphabet. Too quickly – it span and flew and he ended up at Wilson, Sam before he could stop it rolling. Biting out a curse and moving the screen more carefully, it edged back up and up until…

Yes. It was there, black and white and glowing back at him from the small screen. He smiled again. 

\--------

Darcy sat at the end of the breakfast bar and poked at a half-eaten hash brown. She was perched on one of the kitchen bar stools, legs bare and dangling and the duvet thrown over her shoulders like a cape. She was trying – sort of – not to glower at the other two across the bar. Thor, stripped to the waist, muscles flexing as he held a cereal packet high over Jane’s head in jest. Lady boss giggling, reaching, and threatening to jab him with a fork. 

It was a sickening display and she didn’t begrudge it of either of them. 

Still. Be nice to start the day on actual sleep. 

She could feel her left eye start to twitch and rubbed at it reflexively. It only seemed to make it worse, and she sighed heavily. Slipping off the stool unnoticed by the pair, Jane now caught in Thor’s bare arms, pressed against his chest and staring up at him like his eyes were the sun and the moon, Darcy swallowed back a cough and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen before she made a comment she’d regret or worse – they’d start at it again. 

Darcy stood under the shower, letting the burning water hit her hard and trickle over her in rivers. Her limbs ached from where she’d been curled up awkwardly on the couch all night, and she stretched and sighed under the shower head before regretfully turning it off and slipping out of the cubicle. She wiped a hand across the condensation on the bathroom mirror and stared critically at her fuzzy reflection. 

Brunette hair that curled and frizzed slightly in the humid air of the bathroom. Blue eyes that would have sparkled slightly if they’d not been graced with dark shadows. Skin arguably too pale. She grimaced, scowling and screwing her expression at the mirror and her reflection made a face right back at her. She grinned and reached for her toothbrush. 

\------

After a long shower, one that turned his shower tray a nasty brownish-red colour before the water finally ran clear again, Steve hauled himself into clean jeans and a clean-ish t-shirt, discarding his suit in the laundry basket and promising himself – and the spirit of his mother, god rest her and the disapproving look he knew he was long overdue – that he would absolutely get to that later. Glancing guiltily at the pile of dishes still doing a half-decent impression of the leaning tower of Pisa in the kitchen sink, he added another promise to that list. Pausing at the door, giving his apartment a once-over, his left hand brushed at the bulge in his jeans pocket where his phone was snugly pressed against his thigh. 

Later, he thought, and snatched his hand away before he did anything stupid. 

The elevator contained two other people, some faceless suits who took one look at him and parted like the Red Sea. Sighing to himself, he rested his ass against the railing against the back wall and waited. The elevator stopped again at the next floor where a third person joined, a petite brunette who was yawning quietly to herself. The hood to her sweatshirt pulled up and over her face, all Steve could see was a mass of dark hair spilling from under the navy hood. She shuffled her way in, battered sneakers scuffing along the floor and parked herself next to him. He could hear the steady thump of a bassline beat, and realised that the girl had an iPod shoved into her ears. One foot flat on the floor and the other resting against the back wall, she wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head. 

The suits threw her a glance in tandem, then looked at each other. Steve could practically taste the disapproval. 

He fought back a snort, though from the volume of the music he doubted she’d hear him even if he didn’t. The girl looked like the physical embodiment of what he wanted a lot of the time – wrapped up and protected against the outside world. He could see the top of her head nodding out of time with the beat that thrummed from the headphones. The doors pinged open at the next floor and with them went the girl, sneakers trailing neon pink laces and hands now shoved into her jeans pockets, sleeves falling sloppily down over them. 

He shook his head, and pumped the button again in case the elevator had forgotten where it was supposed to take him. The suits said nothing. 

\-------  
Darcy threw the door open to Jane’s lab and let it bang back against the glass. Jane jerked her head back from the microscope, then relaxed her shoulders as she looked over at her intern. Darcy slipped back the hood and shook out her dark hair before hauling back the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt and pointing straight at her boss.

“I need coffee, and you owe me. So scoot.” She made a shooing motion with her fingers. 

“Since when did you become the boss?” Jane straightened up and put her hands on her hips. Darcy sloped forward and collapsed bodily into a chair opposite Jane. Her arms folded onto the table in front of her and her head dropped to rest upon her crossed arms. Raising her head slightly, framed by dark curls, blue eyes narrowed and fixed upon the other girl. 

“Since I got precisely one hour’s sleep, in between Thor's tales of derring-do and your headboard rattling.”

“It's not that bad-“ Jane protested.

“Janey, by all the gods do I love you, but it literally is that bad, and worse.” Darcy stretched her arms up above her head, knitting her hands together and feeling the aching muscles tighten across her back as she moved. She fought back a yawn, stifling it with no small amount of effort, and then hauled her sweatshirt over her head and discarded it on the stool next to her. Left in a checked shirt, she glanced down briefly and realised with an internal groan that she’d mis-buttoned it when getting dressed.

Mentally, she shrugged. Could be worse. At least she’d remembered a bra. 

“So who were you talking to last night?” Jane said conversationally as she slid over a steaming paper cup of coffee. Darcy fell upon in like a starving lion on an antelope carcass and, holding up one finger to the scientist, downed two thirds of it in one before attempting to answer her. Putting what was left of the cup down with a pleased sigh and running her tongue over her bottom lip to chase the taste of beautiful, life-giving caffeine around it, she turned her attention back to Jane. 

“You mean you could actually hear anything over yourselves?” She said, schooling her face into an incredulous expression, eyes wide and mouth popping open. “I mean, I struggled to hear myself and you guys were all of fifteen feet away from me.” Darcy popped an eyebrow in Jane’s direction and raised the paper cup back to her lips, a small grin tweaking the corner of her mouth before she took another long drag on the coffee. 

“Very funny, and stop deflecting.”

“I'm not deflecting,” She said flatly, and put a hand to her chest dramatically. “I'm traumatised.” Jane raised an eyebrow of her own in response, and Darcy dropped the hand, grinning wider now. “Okay, not traumatised. Deaf. Do you even realise how much noise you make?”

Jane rolled her eyes and turned back to the microscope, shrugging her white lab coat back on over her small frame. Darcy continued, now on a roll and itching to see a blush creep over Jane’s cheeks. “I mean, on the one hand it's truly horrific and I've never been so disturbed since that one time on vacation when I heard my parents, but on the other, you've perfected an art form.”

She earned herself a withering look before Jane settled her eye back to the instrument. They were interrupted by the arrival of Thor, who, when in the tower, apparently couldn’t bear to spend more than ten minutes away from his girlfriend. He barrelled in and scooped Jane up, smothering her face with gentle kisses before setting her back down on her feet again. 

Darcy propped one elbow on the table, and rested her head in the palm of her hand. 

“Ah,” Exclaimed Thor, in a voice entirely too loud for that time of the morning and that little coffee in her system, thought Darcy. “T’is the good Captain.” He boomed, and raised a hand toward the glass windows that faced out into the corridor, gesturing enthusiastically. Darcy grasped at her paper coffee cup and drained the last dregs as though it could save her from overly loud Norsemen. She didn’t bother to swivel on her stool. Judging by Thor’s stories about the mission yesterday, she figured the last thing the guy needed to was to see her tired self, all un-brushed curls and sleepy eyes. The Avengers saw enough nightmares on the daily without adding to it, she snorted to herself. 

“Hmmm, well, I suppose he is busy.” Thor said, dropping his arm and Darcy squinted up at him, privately thinking that the good Captain clearly had more sense than she did if he’d chosen to avoid the lab. It was going to be a very long day made even longer if the big guy didn’t push off soon. She loved him to pieces but no one was her favourite person on an hour’s sleep. Most especially if they’d been complicit in causing it. 

\-------

Steve studiously pretended to ignore Thor as he waved and tried to motion him to join them in the lab. Glancing very quickly to the side as he passed, he summised that, of the two women in the lab at least one had to be Thor’s girlfriend and frankly after last night there was no way he could look either of them in the eye without the tips of his ears turning red. Contrary to popular – Tony’s – belief, Steve was no blushing virgin but neither did he feel like facing the people whose entire bedroom routine he now knew in excruciating detail.

He walked on quickly, lengthening his stride to cover more ground. 

Steve could feel the phone practically burning a hole into his thigh. 

Reaching the common room, he slid onto the sofa next to Sam, who was wholly engrossed in losing a driving game. Steve sat next to him, fidgeting slightly and pulling at each finger in turn as Wilson swore and hammered buttons on the controller gripped between both hands. Occasionally, he’d lean into Steve as the screen turned in front of him, then veer back to the left as it straightened again. 

Steve waited as long as he was able to before speaking. 

“How soon is too soon to call a girl?”

“Three days after your date. No more, no less.” Sam answered automatically, then lowered the controller slowly and turned to the man next to him with wide eyes and a confused expression. The car on the screen hit a brick wall on an underpass and burst into flames. One lone tyre bounced across the computerised road. Twelve other CGI cars zipped past in quick succession, leaving Sam dead last. “Wait, what- Steve?”

Sam swivelled fully and fixed him with an incredulous look. The blond held a hand up to Sam's chest and cocked his head before speaking. “I'm going to need you to kill any temptation to make jokes or any other apparently amusing observations you have lurking in your head right now.” Steve said, warningly. 

“I didn't say a thing-“

“You were thinking it.”

“So this girl.” Sam shifted gear abruptly, turning back to the television screen and bringing the controller back up towards his chest. Steve did not miss that one eye was still checking out his reactions, even as Sam re-started the game and the cars on screen started revving awaiting the race to start again. “When did you take her out?”

“I- well I haven't gotten to that part. Yet.” Steve said, twisting his mouth as he answered, also watching the screen. 

“Right.” Sam dragged the word out as his car negotiated a nasty hairpin bend and just managed to stop it sliding onto the grass verge. The wheels span and spat out smoke before it zipped off down the straight. “You know you're making the whole no comments thing really damn hard.”

\--------

Thor had, to the relief of the pounding in Darcy’s head, taken his unnecessarily loud self and left in search of Stark. Or food. Or possibly both. She was just grateful that she could focus on her paperwork in relative peace, though the words were swimming on the page in front of her and she had to alternate espresso and litres of water to get her head vaguely near the game. Glancing up at the clock, ticking torturously slowly in her humble opinion, she decided it was high time for a break. 

“Hey, don't knock it.” She said lightly, slipping out of her chair and wandering over to Jane who was tapping furiously at her own laptop, the screen filled with equations and scientific terms from top to bottom as the girl worked. Darcy grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in front of them and bit into it. 

Jane looked up at her in confusion, head tilting and struggling to follow the snap-start conversation that her intern had begun. “Huh?” She asked gracelessly, pushing back strands of long mouse brown hair over her shoulder and yelping as she caught her hand on a pencil she’d evidently forgotten was behind one ear. 

“You know. Your nightly activities.” Darcy grinned as Jane massaged her hand and retrieved the pencil, throwing it onto the desk where it bounced. One eye was still half on the laptop screen, and Darcy could practically see the cogs whirring in the other girl’s brain in front of her. “I take inspiration from you for the phone calls.”

“Wait, you do what?” Jane’s face was a pure picture, and now her attention was all on Darcy. 

“Hey lady, them’s the rules.” She shrugged. “You don't want it repeated, then don't moan it through the drywall at 3am.” She ducked, laughing, as Jane threw an orange at her head. It missed by a mile and rolled across the floor where it came to rest against a filing cabinet. 

“You need a man in your life.” Jane said pointedly. “Then you wouldn’t be so bothered about mine.”

“I need to live somewhere else, that's what I need.” Darcy shot back, only half-joking at that point. She continued. “I’m only bothered by Thor when I can practically feel his breath on my neck as he lies back and thinks of Asgard. Loudly. Three times a night.” 

Jane shook her head. “No, that’s not it-“

“-I assure you it is, you try living with that-“

“-You didn’t have an issue in London.” The other girl pointed out. “And that was a much smaller space. Much thinner walls-“

“I’m getting the distinct impression that you are well aware of how loud you get, and I want you to know I’m not happy about that.” Darcy said without amusement and Jane swatted at her before continuing. 

“-because you had Ian.” She finished, and nodded as though she’d just cracked a particularly tough equation, arms folded across her body and what Darcy considered to be an insufferably smug look on her face. She scoffed in response, not deigning to answer and turning her back to the other woman, searching out the hooded sweatshirt she’d discarded earlier. She pulled out her phone only just having the chance to register that she had zero missed calls or messages – which didn’t bother her, at all, not in the slightest – before it was plucked from her hands. 

“Hey-“

“This doesn’t help.” Jane said, dangling it in front of her. “I know, all that stuff you convince yourself of – it’s money, it’s just a job, it’s just words, blah blah blah.” It was Darcy’s turn to cross her arms over her chest, though she combined it with a foot tap that she hoped accurately conveyed the depth of her annoyance with Jane. “Seriously, Darcy.”

As if on cue, the phone started to ring.

\-------

“What are you doing?”

Steve looked up, somewhat guiltily, phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder as he rooted through the open fridge. “Looking for that honeyed ham we didn’t finish yesterday?” He offered, knowing full well that wasn’t what Sam was asking about. 

The fridge door shut firmly and he only just managed to yank his head back before his nose got shut in it, too. Wilson took advantage of Steve being off balance and grabbed at the phone, knocking it free from Steve’s shoulder with one hand and catching it neatly in the other. One hand braced against Steve’s chest, he held the phone in the other and glanced quickly at the screen before shaking his head and ending the call. 

“No calls. What did I tell you?” His big brown eyes raked over Steve and the blond dropped his head. “C’mon, Steve, I need to hear it.” He demanded, turned to face the other man head on and putting his hands on his hips. Steve rolled his eyes in response and mumbled under his breath. Sam cocked his head to the side and rolled one hand in a repeat-it-man gesture. 

Steve sighed. 

“You don’t call a girl the day following your date.” He intoned, and Sam joined in on the last three words, punctuating each syllable with a firm slap of his hand against the granite countertop. 

“Or, you know, six hours after you last spoke to her on the phone.” Sam amended, with a smirk, and Steve dropped his eyes in response. “How exactly did you meet this girl again?” The soldier in front of him flushed slightly and turned away before answering. Sam almost missed what he said as the fridge door opened again and Steve started rifling through it. “Sorry, say again?”

“I said-“ Steve’s head appeared around the chrome door. “I dialled a wrong number.” 

“I feel like this is something that could only happen to you.” Steve made a noise that sounded like a cross between agreement and a groan, and Sam hopped up onto the counter with ease and watched as Steve hauled out plate after plate of leftovers. He’d never seen anyone with an appetite quite like Steve’s, but he was more than willing to try and keep up. “Pass that salami, will you?” The captain dutifully handed back a large cling-filmed plate of meat over his shoulder. 

“So ‘oo ‘ere ‘oo tryin’ ta call, anywa’?” Sam said around a large mouthful of salami that was possibly a touch too ambitious to take down in one go. It was surely his imagination, but it looked a lot like the tops of Steve’s ears went red after he’d spoken. The other man cleared his throat heavily before responding. 

“I was, uh.” Steve said slowly. “I was calling a… A therapist.” 

Sam put the plate down heavily and leaned forward, putting one hand on Steve’s shoulder. The other man hadn’t turned around, but his head had dropped slightly. Sam squeezed, fingers digging into the hard muscle of Steve’s shoulder. “You can always talk to me if you need to, you know that right?” He said in a low voice. 

“Yeah.” The blond answered, tone even, still staring into the open fridge. “Yeah, I know, Sam.”

“Cap, are you trying to recreate the last seventy years of your life? If so, there’s cheaper ways to run up my electricity bill. If not, shut the damn fridge.” Steve rolled his eyes as Tony announced his entrance into the common room. He shut the door and turned to Sam, boring a look into him to not say a goddamned word. Sam mimed a zipping motion across his mouth and Steve thanked whoever wanted to hear it that Wilson could read him like an open book. 

\-------

Darcy lunged for the phone as it rang, and Jane just had the presence of mind to haul back. Almost as suddenly as it started, it cut out. Darcy, just having managed to stop herself from face-planting on the floor, threw her head back and pushed with both hands at the waterfall of hair that had fallen over her face, shoving it haphazardly behind her ears. 

“Not funny, Foster.” She snapped. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Jane said in surprise, handing the phone back. 

“Nothing.” Darcy said shortly, turning away. She sighed, frowning, having no way to tell whether the missed call had been Steve or not. Surely he wouldn’t have cut off so quickly? This was a guy who’d hung on to talk to her even when he’d dialled a wrong number, even when he’d not meant to dial at all. Her lips pursed. 

“Darcy-“ Jane popped a head over her shoulder and rested her chin. Her arms wrapped around the younger girl and she squeezed, hugging her tightly. “Don’t be mad at me. Please?” Darcy exhaled as hard as she could with Jane clinging onto her waist and crushing her ribs slightly, letting out her frustrations and reminding herself that her mind was coloured badly by lack of sleep. 

“M’not mad at you.” She mumbled, still hanging onto the phone. 

“Who were you expecting to call?” Jane said, suddenly putting numbers together and finally making four. Darcy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and the other girl squeezed a little tighter – knowing Darcy’s tells, knowing she was on the right line of questioning. “Does it have anything to do with the person you were talking to last night?” She added, hopefully. 

Darcy peeled Jane’s arms from around her waist and turned on her heel. Shoving her phone into her back pocket with one hand and pointing the index finger of the other at Jane’s chest authoritatively, the other girl brought her hands together in a prayer movement and Darcy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Look, I’m going to tell you this because you’re both my boss and my best friend, but as of right now you are sworn to secrecy and banned from getting over excited.”

“I don’t get-“ Darcy tilted her head, one eyebrow raised and Jane conceded defeat. “Alright, I won’t. Just spill it.”

“I think we’re going to need to do this over a liquid lunch.” 

\--------

Steve gave a fervent look up and down the corridor before opening the door quickly and sliding his bulk inside. He opted not to turn on the light switch, which seemed like a mostly good idea until he straightened up and hit the back of his head on the lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling. He stumbled back slightly and threw an arm out to get his bearings. 

The cupboard was alarmingly small, and filled with junk floor to ceiling. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and he found that he was already standing in the only space that he was able to do so. He’d managed to shake Sam, just about, but the other man was sure to smell a rat and come looking for him if he didn’t hurry up soon. He pulled the phone from his pocket and slid quickly to Darcy’s name. 

It rang. 

He tapped his foot impatiently as it continued to ring, three, four, five times. He reminded himself that Darcy hadn’t picked up immediately last time, either. It rang on. He had gotten the right number, hadn’t he? The sound of the tone was starting to grate on him. 

Finally-

“Hi, you’ve reached Darcy. I can’t answer the phone right now which means I’m either busy saving the world or asleep. If you’re interesting enough, I might call back.”

He sagged slightly. Voicemail. Then reminded himself that at least it confirmed two things – one, that he had remembered the number correctly and two, that she’d actually given him her real number. It had flashed through his mind that she might have just wanted him to take a hint and stop bothering her, but been too polite to say so. 

Steve suddenly remembered he was supposed to be talking. 

“Oh, shit, I- Um, well, it’s me. That is, it’s Steve. From the- from the- oh god, well you know where from. The wrong number. You said that I could call, if I wanted to so… I hope this is okay. You’re, um, you’re not here right now. Clearly. You must know that. Oh, jeez, I’m not great at voicemail-“

He broke off, and slapped a hand over his forehead, just about resisting the urge to swear more creatively. He sucked in a breath and tried again.

“Okay. I just wanted to call, and say thank you for picking up last night. Or this morning, whichever. It was a long day and I guess I just needed a friendly voice. You always seem to pick me up, I’m not sure how you manage it. Um, anyway. So this is my number and – and, well. If you wanted to call me, that would be okay. More than okay.”

Steve ended the call abruptly before his mouth ran away with him, and closed his eyes in relief. 

\------

Barton:  
Nat. I’m not saying I just saw Cap hide in a supply closet, but … I just saw Cap hide in a supply closet. 

Romanoff:  
Maybe they did things differently in the 30s?


	5. Voicemail

“No way is this guy legit.” 

Darcy hiccupped loudly in response and swayed slightly on her bar stool. She scrunched her eyes up at both versions of Jane sat across from her, and took a stab at talking to one of them. “You think?” 

“What guy doesn’t know what a sex line is?” Jane scoffed, and downed the last trickle of her cocktail. She eyed the empty glass thoughtfully, and ran her tongue across her bottom lip, tasting the last sugary drops left. Her tongue was tinged a dark blue and Darcy giggled looking at it. 

“Hey man,” She flagged down a passing waiter. “Two more of these, yeah?” She gestured towards Jane’s empty glass, and her own which she was rapidly working on draining. The guy nodded, throwing her a sly flirtatious smile as he fetched up Jane’s discarded tumbler, and she turned slightly in her seat as he strolled away. Jane leaned over as well, and they both watched the bounce in his step as he headed toward the bar. 

Righting herself, Jane spoke again. “That’s another thing. You don’t even know what this guy looks like.”

“S’not important.” Darcy declared, and slugged the rest of her drink in one, feeling it burn its way deliciously down her throat as she did so. She shook her head slightly, smacking her lips together and running her tongue across her teeth. 

“It is.” Jane said flatly. 

“Hey,” Darcy said, pointing the bright pink straw from her drink across the table at Jane as she spoke in an accusatory manner. “No judging people by other-worldly standards. S’not fair. Not everyone has blond hair and muscles as big as Africa.” 

“No one says that’s the criteria, but you’ve got to be attracted to a person, Darce.” The other girl pointed out in response, raising her eyebrows. Darcy had to admit Jane raised an appropriate topic. Whilst she did not consider herself a shallow person, one did require a physical spark for anything more. That said-

“I’m attracted to his voice. And his total incompetence with electronics. S’that weird?” Darcy tipped her head to one side and squinted over at Jane. The waiter appeared, bearing two new bright blue cocktails, one in each hand, and she graced him with a glowing smile that he returned in kind. He was cute, she mused, and yet. And yet he was not Steve. She resisted the urge – just – to hit herself in the forehead. What an utterly ridiculous situation. 

“Well, it’s not normal.” Jane said, laughing slightly, as she accepted her glass and slurped at it inelegantly. The cherry that bobbed on stick threatened to hit her in the nose as she drank deeply, the alcohol staining her lips a further dark blue. Darcy reflected that she looked a little like a Smurf, and giggled to herself quietly before answering. 

“Pssssh.” She waved the cocktail stick from her own drink towards Jane, before wrapping her lips around the cherry and sucking it off the stick. “What do you know about normal? You ran over your boyfriend with a truck. Twice.” She gestured towards the older woman and grinned as she finished, chewing down on the fruit between her teeth until it popped and flooded her mouth. 

“He wasn’t my boyfriend then, so it doesn’t count. And you tased him.” Jane pointed out, crunching on her own cherry pointedly as she spoke. Darcy noticed that a dude sat at the bar was totally checking out Jane as her boss crossed her legs at the high table. He was handsome, in an average, be-suited kind of way. She narrowed her eyes. Even if Jane weren’t with Thor – and lord in heaven above did Darcy know Jane was with Thor – she couldn’t see him with the lady boss. Jog on, mister, she thought to herself, before turning her attention fully back to the conversation at hand. 

“There was unresolved sexual tension, so it totally counts.” She pointed out, winking at Jane. “Hey, you wanna tase Steve if I meet him?” Darcy offered lightly, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke and taking a deep slurp of her drink. “Then we can be even.” 

Jane considered the offer, then shrugged in turn herself. “I could do that.”

“S’deal.” Darcy stuck her hand across the table, narrowly missing catching her nearly empty glass, and Jane grabbed her hand firmly, shaking it hard. The two girls collapsed into giggles and Jane called for another round of drinks inbetween laughing. 

\--------

Steve still hadn’t heard from Darcy, and he fought back the rising panic in his throat that Sam had been right. That he ought to have waited and not scared her off by being too enthusiastic and calling too soon, no matter how much he wanted to hear her voice again. He rolled his head back against the sofa and tried his hardest to concentrate on the television in front of him. He’d been so set on trying to keep himself busy waiting on an answer from her that he’d even done the washing up. 

And his laundry. 

And tided the apartment. 

Now all he was able to do was sit, on his caboose, watching some show that Sam had promised him was all the rage. It didn’t make much sense to him, but he was dutifully watching anyway, parked on the couch and eyes staring ahead of him at the television as though he gave a crap about what was going on. His mind kept drifting to the voicemail he’d left her, some hours before. 

He was starting to regret it. 

Steve put his head in his hands, replaying the way he’d stumbled over his words, the way he’d stupidly referred to the sex line. Surely that wasn’t something any girl wanted to be reminded of? He was firmly in the middle of self-flagellation when his phone vibrated hard on the coffee table in front of him and he practically fell off the couch in his haste to reach it. 

Stark:  
Suit up, Cap. Quinjet. Now. 

Steve sighed. 

\----------

Darcy pulled out her phone for the first time in hours, Jane had excused herself to head to the ladies and she’d decided now was an opportune time to finally check the device that had been burning a proverbial hole in her jeans pocket for hours. 

She nearly fell out of her chair to see both a missed call message and a voicemail icon flashing merrily at her. Raising the phone to her ear and stuffing a finger into the other one, she listened intently to the rambling, adorable message that he’d left her, hours before. Upon finishing it, she fought hard against the urge to listen to it all over again, and instead half-fell from the stool when Jane stumbled her way back to the table, making some half-hearted excuses and ignoring the look on the other girl’s face as she did so. 

Darcy made her way outside the bar and re-dialled Steve’s number, now that she knew it was his. She listened to it ring, impatient, tapping one foot against the pavement and studiously ignoring the people around her, sucking on cigarettes and necking enthusiastically under the patio heaters out front of the bar. Finally, it kicked in and she heard his voice. 

“Steve, I-“

It wasn’t him, but his answer phone message. 

“What do I say? My name? Well that doesn’t make any sense. Don’t they already know that if they’re calling me? I- okay, okay, Sam. Hi, this is Steve. I’m not around, so leave a message and I will call you back. Is that enough? How do I turn it-“ 

The beep kicked in. Darcy found herself shaking her head and giggling slightly. Somehow, if she could have predicted an answer phone message for Steve, it wouldn’t have been far removed from the one he actually had. There was something wholly endearing about it, though she couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t the alcohol kicking its way through her veins that made her heart clench in her chest upon hearing his voice again. 

“Hey, Steve-o. So, I’m in a bar. Well, I’m currently outside of a bar. And I got your voicemail. Yeah, you are bad at voicemail but here’s a little secret for you – no one is good at voicemail. Anyone who tells you different is a dirty liar. Totally don’t believe anyone who tells you that. See? Point proven, I’m being rubbish at voicemail right now.”

Darcy hiccupped and thumped herself in the chest, just about managing to jerk the phone away from her mouth as she did so. Jerking her head around she looked back into the bar through the huge glass windows and saw Jane, gesturing madly for her to get her ass back inside. Two brand new neon orange cocktails were gracing the table in front of her. Shaking her head, Darcy brought the phone back to her head and continued. 

“Soooooooooo. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, and I might have indulged in a cocktail or three, but hearing your voice kinda brightens my day.” Darcy sucked in a breath, screwed up her face and bit on her lower lip as she finished and crossed her fingers that Steve wasn’t able to hear that somehow over the airwaves later when he picked up the message. “It’s gotta be the stupidest thing and I know you’ll probably run screaming for the hills because, you know, who the hell wants to chat to a wrong number that turned out to be a sex line.” 

She exhaled heavily and decided that going for broke on a voicemail message had to be better than saying it in person, at least for the embarrassment factor. 

“I like you. Shit. Now it’s out there. Feel free to ignore this. In fact, you probably – definitely – should ignore it. You seem like a really nice guy and I… And. Oh god. And, I like hearing your voice. Even at 2am when I’m being kept awake by my totally inconsiderate roommate.” She choked out a laugh. “Okay, I am really going to go now, have a great rest of the night, whatever it is that you’re up to.”

Darcy hung up firmly before she could say anything else, and headed back inside the bar where Jane was waiting for her. 

\--------

Steve was amazed, truly gosh-darn-it amazed, at the amount of blood a so-called Frost Beast could produce. 

“I mean,” He said, voice confused as he spoke. “You’d think it wouldn’t be red-blooded, being frosty and all.” He said, staring down at the twitching body in front of him. Contrary to his own belief, his suit was now considerably more red than it was any other colour, splattered as it was with the arterial ejaculation of the dying mammal. Thor, stood to the left of him, shrugged. 

“It is what is is.” The Norseman said nonchalantly, and turned away. Steve, still looking down at the other-worldly animal, paused before pulling his shield out of its throat. Raising it over his head and pushing it firmly down against the metal holsters on his back, he turned on his heel and followed the bigger man back onto the jet. 

Settling himself down across from Stark, Steve rolled his head back against the metal side of the jet and sighed. Another mission completed, and no one lost or hurt too badly. He discounted himself, knowing that the deep slash that now graced the skin over his rib cage would be long gone by the time morning rolled around. It was, all in all, a good mission. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, more out of habit than anything else, and felt his heart perform a small polka to see a missed call from one Darcy, displayed in big black lettering across the screen. He tried his best to hide the broad smile his mouth itched to create from one side of his face to the other, and instead punched in his passcode and lifted the phone to his ear in order to listen to her properly. 

She rambled, somewhat drunkenly, from the phone and he bit his lip to hear her say that he brightened her day. That she liked hearing his voice. That she liked HIM. Stark tilted his head from across the jet at the smile that played around Steve’s lips and he ducked his head into his chest away from that enquiring look. He might have confided some small part of the story in Sam but he had little to no intention of telling Tony anything about Darcy. He’d only laugh, or worse – try to help. 

Steve was kind of enjoying muddling along by himself. 

He waited – had to, really, until the Quinjet was firmly on the tarmac – to call her back. Nat shuffled off again, though not before running her eyes over him in a calculating way that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t used to Romanoff looking him over, but typically he had some idea why. Tony fell into Pepper’s arms as usual, and this time Thor was greeted by the girlfriend he’d been waxing lyrical about on every mission. Steve refused to let himself think on the other aspect of Thor’s relationship he already knew too much about. 

She looked a little worse for wear, bleary eyed and swaying slightly on the helipad as Thor scooped her into his broad arms and swung her around. Steve smiled as he passed, at the bored look on what he assumed was Foster’s assistant’s face. The girl was also swaying as she stood, all dark ringlets hair blowing in the breeze as the jet wound down its engines. He noticed that the buttons on her check shirt weren’t buttoned to the correct holes, and opted not to mention as he passed her by. 

“Debbie.” Stark nodded to the girl as he wandered past, arm in arm with Pepper. 

Fishing into his pocket as he walked, Steve retrieved his phone and started to try and plan what he ought to say to Darcy, hoping against hope that she’d still be up at this late hour and he’d be able to speak to her properly. 

\---------

 

Stark had called her Debbie. Again. Darcy rolled her eyes and pretended as though she cared. As far as she was concerned, the fact she barely registered on Tony Stark’s radar could only be a good thing. She’d seen how the others jumped when he called, and she wanted no part of it. Genius he may be, but she was nobody’s lackey. Not even Jane’s. 

Darcy wrinkled her nose as Thor attempted to draw her into a hug, having finally let go of Jane. Lady boss was looking slightly green around the proverbial gills, and Darcy for one wasn’t willing to bet either way on whether that was due to the seven cocktails they’d had apiece, or the frankly vile smell emanating from Thor. That said, Captain America had passed by her, all blood-splattered stars and spangles, smelling much the same as Thor, so she was leaning toward that. 

“Put me down,” She protested, wriggling against his tight embrace, and, grinning, he did set her back on her feet. “You stink.” She said plainly, and was rewarded by a rumbling guffaw by the big blond. 

Darcy, secreting herself into an alcove away from the impromtu welcoming party, pulled out her phone and found the corners of her mouth twitching, just ever so slightly and despite herself, to see a new message awaiting her. She couldn’t quite believe she’d managed to miss him yet again. 

She hit the button and held it to her ear. 

“Darcy, it’s Steve. I mean, I guess you know that, because of caller ID. I, uh, I had another long day at the office, I guess you could say. Wasn’t easy. Hearing you made it better, though. I got your voicemail, can’t say I want to ignore you, Darce. Maybe that’s not a cool thing to say… I gotta friend says I shouldn’t call you for three days, that you’ll think I’m an idiot or somethin’ if I call beforehand. Guess I ruined that strategy already, but here’s hopin’ you hear that I just, well. I just like you.”

Darcy screwed her face up as electricity shot through her, top to bottom, at Steve’s words. She checked her watch and realised how late it was. She sighed to herself. Much too late to realistically expect him to still be up, especially since, as he’d said, he’d had a long day. Still, she could leave him a voicemail. 

\-------

Steve had thrown himself under a scalding hot shower, letting the rivulets of water wash away the stink and sweat of the mission from his skin. He rested his head back against the cool tiles and let his body relax under the steaming water. He waited, as usual, for the water to turn clear before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. 

Still dripping, he padded back into his bedroom and wandered through it towards the kitchen. He skirted the breakfast bar, heading for the fridge and whatever might still be hanging around in it, as he noticed the blink of his phone, discarded on the granite work surface. His heart beat faster, almost uncomfortably so, as he snatched it up and brought it to his face. He’d hardly dared hope, but sure enough, there was a voicemail message from Darcy. He cursed himself for having jumped straight in the shower, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. 

Breathing hard, he hit the button and held the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Steve. I guess you’re probably long since asleep already, by the sounds of your day, and I’m heading for bed myself – assuming my roommate doesn’t decide that she needs to audition for the X-rated version of Cirque du Soleil again. I’d never be so stupid as to bet against that. The three day rule is stupid, by the way. You’re right to ignore it. Maybe one day we’ll actually manage to talk to each other again, instead of perpetually missing each other and leaving voicemail. Anyhow … Sweet dreams, Steve.”

Sweet dreams … Steve glanced down at the phone display, which told him it was now well after midnight. His shoulders sagged as he realised it was really much too late to call her back, however much he wanted to do so. He reminded himself strongly that she also had been kept up late the previous night, thanks in no small part to himself, and that Darcy wouldn’t have anything like his super serum to keep her going through the next day. 

Sighing, he wandered back to his bedroom and shucked the towel onto the radiator to dry. Slipping under the covers – the changing of which he’d managed to stick on the procrastination list whilst he’d been waiting on Darcy to call back earlier, and was he ever grateful for that – he let his head fall onto the pillows.


	6. In Case of Emergency, Call...

It was, actually, quite a productive day. At least until the lab blew up.

Darcy, narrowly missing being hit in the head by a decent sized chunk of door frame, pulled herself behind an upturned desk and shielded her eyes. The room had, as far as she could comprehend over the ringing in her ears and the pounding in her temples, imploded. It was filled with smoke and dust, and it made her cough heavily. Hand over her mouth, she shouted for Jane, realising she'd not yet accounted for the scientist.

"Jane?" She called, spluttering as dust settled in her mouth, trying to control the wobble in her voice as she shouted again. "Janey?"

"Here." A small voice came from across the room and Darcy scrambled commando style over bits of desk and under sections of ceiling towards it. Pulling away chunks of plaster and debris, she finally found herself looking down at the other girl. Dusty, a small cut on her forehead but otherwise seemingly intact, Darcy heaved a sigh of relief as Jane offered her a small smile.

"Wormhole less stable than suspected?" Darcy asked lightly, holding out a hand and hauling Jane into a sitting position.

"Excuse you," Jane sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead in a vain attempt to clean some of the dust off. She succeeded only in smearing blood into her hairline. "There's nothing wrong with that wormhole." Darcy offered her back a dubious look and Jane swatted her on the arm. 

“Seriously, it wasn’t me.” 

“Well, then what-”

They were interrupted by a black-clad man surging through a hole in the wall, and the girls both scrambled backward, separately, Jane to one side and Darcy throwing herself behind a desk. His face was masked, a black balaclava covering every inch of it and tinted goggles over his eyes. Gun raised to his shoulder he rounded on Jane who pressed herself into the wall, eyes trained upon the intruder. 

“Dr. Foster.”

\------

Steve felt the shudder rumble across the floor of his office as he sat at his desk, and looked over at Tony in confusion. 

“Something to do with you?” He asked, head tilted to one side. The look on Stark’s face was enough to send him out of his chair and grabbing for his shield, long before the other man’s mouth had managed to open and form words. Slinging the shield on his back and rushing out of the door, he was met in the stairwell by Thor who had a wild look on his face. 

“Jane.” The big blond choked out, and Steve’s pace quickened.

\-------

“It is my genuine pleasure, Dr. Foster.” If she’d been able to see his face, she would have seen the smile creep across it. As it was, Jane could hear the sinister edge to his voice and flattened herself further against the wall. He trained the gun upon her, red laser dot floating around her sternum. 

“I’ve heard so much about you and your work,” He continued, advancing upon Jane with his gun still sighted over her heart. “Such an important theorem that you have, such a gift to the world-” He stopped abruptly mid-sentence, jaw dropping open and eyes blanking as a large plank of wood connected sharply with his temple. 

Jane turned her head aside, throwing up an arm to shield herself from the spray of blood that erupted. Hearing a loud thud and looking back as the man crumpled, first to his knees and then bodily to the floor, she looked up at Darcy who propped the plank of wood under her armpit and leaned on it, breathing heavily. 

“Sorry to interrupt the platitudes, but, y’know, crazed gunman and all.” Darcy panted. 

Jane scrambled to her feet and joined Darcy in looking down at the man on the floor. She kicked away the gun so that it was out of his reach. “What do you reckon he wanted?” She asked. 

“Nothing good.” Darcy replied heavily. “In my thankfully limited experience, nothing a man says whilst he has a gun trained on you should be considered truthful.” 

Jane gave her a steady look. “Later, when we’re not covered in dust and standing in the pitiful remains of my laboratory, you’re going to explain the history behind that.”

\----------

“I'll go to Jane-”

“Actually, it might be best if you don't.” Steve shouted, ducking as he ran. “Hear me out.” He said quickly, catching the look on Thor’s face as he ran beside him. “You’re bigger, you got the hammer, you take out the threats. I’ll make sure your girl’s alright.”

The Norseman grimaced beside him and Steve silently added the fact that he’d quite like to find out why it was that they were being attacked as well, before Thor ripped them limb from bloody limb. Reluctantly, the other man nodded and Steve clapped him on the shoulder before ducking down the small stairwell to his left that would take him to Jane’s lab. 

Or what was left of it, at any rate. 

\----------

“Now what?” Jane asked, looking over at Darcy who was stood by the felled goon. The brunette let the plank of wood she’d been holding fall to the wrecked floor with a thud and a crash. Stepping forward, she toed into the man’s ribs experimentally, then significantly harder when he didn’t respond. He let out a half-hearted groan at that. 

“Well, he’s not dead. Which I guess is a good thing for my criminal record.” Darcy answered with a twist of her lips. “God I wish I wasn’t being put in a position to ask this, so let’s make a pact to forget it immediately afterwards, but I don’t suppose you happen to have any handcuffs?” The look on her face was a mixture of hope and sheer reluctance. 

“Not with me.” Jane answered, blushing slightly and Darcy made a note to check out the new apartment listings as soon as they got out of this. Assuming they got out of this, a nasty little voice whispered in the back of her mind, quickly joined by a second voice that bemoaned the fact she’d never had a chance to meet Steve before dying, and she shook them both away fast. Thinking like that would get her nowhere. 

“Okay.” She said firmly. “Don’t we have cable ties or something?” Jane brightened and jerked a thumb over her shoulder to what remained of some of the cupboards that had lined the back wall of the lab. “Right, you find those, I’ll clock him if he wakes up again and then we can lash him to a table leg or something.”

Jane, nodding, scrambled across the rubble and bits of desk towards the cupboards. 

\----------

Steve, having fought his way through the corridor after forcing his way out of the broken lift - it had juddered its way to a jerking halt half way into the door space, and he’d had to wedge the door open with his shield and jump down - realised that whoever it was that had broken into the labs had done so with a huge amount of firepower. 

Coughing slightly, he worked his way towards where he thought the door to Jane’s lab had previously been, and looked in. It was barely recognisable as a room anymore, let alone a state of the art laboratory, and he felt a small pang in his chest for the loss of it. Steve was no scientist, but he understood the passion in others. Blinking, he stepped forward into the dusty room and focused on a girl who was stood to the left of him. 

She was looking down and, his eyes flickering down to meet where she was staring, he noted a prone body on the floor. A prone male body, and Steve breathed an internal sigh of relief that it wasn’t Thor’s girl lying amidst the rubble and bleeding from the head. That said, he still needed to locate the other girl, but at least this one was a start. 

“Miss?” Steve said, holding a hand out to the little brunette in front of him, and smiling gently in what he hoped was a reassuring and calming way. She turned to him, all big blue eyes and dark curls tumbling around her shoulders, covered in dust and dirt. She had a large smudge across her nose that a small part of him itched to reach out and wipe away. 

He remembered her from the helipad a day previous, swaying slightly and arms wrapped around herself. He’d not been paying too much attention, focused as he was on getting to a private place and his phone in order that he could call Darcy, but he did remember her. 

Darcy for her part looked dumbly at the hand reached outwards her, having been so focused on making sure their new friend didn’t get back up again that the arrival of this new guy had come as a bit of a surprise, but, before he could speak, his face contorted into an odd expression and he dropped to the floor. She yelped and jumped backwards, stumbling awkwardly and dropping to her knees, only to look up and find Jane standing over his prone body. Her arms were outstretched and clasped in her hands was a taser.

“Got the bastard.” She said triumphantly.

“Actually you just tased Captain America.” Darcy said glumly. “So that's the rescue mission out.”

\-------

“How did these bastards even get in here?” Stark grunted as he shoved a table down the corridor as hard as he could at one of the on-coming goons. 

“It’s your tower, Tony.” Barton barked back as he let loose three arrows in quick succession over Stark’s head. The men who’d been slowed slightly by the desk that had come tumbling towards them yelped as the arrows struck their marks. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Stark only thinks he knows what’s going on.” Natasha said drily as she slipped around the two men and let a roundhouse kick fly towards the temple of a man who’d managed to dodge the table and was struggling up the corridor with an arrow stuck in his shoulder. The foot to his face finally felled him, and he dropped to the floor with a thud and a groan. 

“Where’s Cap, anyway?” 

\--------

“I think it's time for plan B.” Darcy said, looking down, with her hands on her hips, at the unconscious superhero sprawled at their feet, pursing her lips as she thought hard. 

“We had a plan A?” Jane asked in confusion.

“Okay, well we didn't but since you just took out the guy who probably did, now you're on Darcy-time. And Captain Lewis says that hiding sounds like a pretty good plan right about now.”

They could hear the pounding of feet approaching, and voices raised and shouting. 

“Oh crap, help me get him in here.” Darcy jerked a hand over her shoulder at what was left of jane’s supply closet, and hauled at the Captain’s arms whilst Jane shoved at his thighs. Darcy’s phone opted at that moment to ring merrily, vibrating in her jeans pocket. Cursing, she dug a hand down and pulled it out. Glancing at the screen she rolled her head back in exasperation, and slid her thumb across the screen. 

“Not now, dude!” She hissed down the phone, wedging it between her ear and her shoulder as she lugged at the unconscious captain again. The man at the other end reacted in surprise. “Yeah, yeah, look sweetheart, didn’t anyone ever show you the free porn on the internet? Trust me, it’ll save you a ton of cash.” Darcy hung up without letting him answer, and shoved the phone back into her pocket. 

“Bend from the hips, Darce-” Jane instructed, feet scrabbling for purchase as she pushed hard. 

“Okay, workplace manual handling training didn't actually cover how to shift an unconscious superhero.” The little brunette huffed back, yanking as hard as she could, hooking her arms under the Captain’s armpits and leaning her body back as far as it could go in an effort to move him. 

“If we get out of this alive, I’m submitting an application to that museum to include how heavy this dude is.” Darcy grumbled as she paused for a moment, jamming a knee up behind his back to keep him in place and swiping sweaty strands of hair out of her face. 

“I think they already have that, actually. Right around the bit where they show how small he was before the procedure.” Jane said mildly, bending one of his legs and dropping her shoulder into it, trying to get a better purchase as she strained against his dead weight. Darcy cocked an eyebrow at her in exasperation from her vantage point at his shoulders, and Jane shrugged. “Thor wanted to go see it.”

“Just shove, will you?” 

They'd just managed to drag him into the closet space when part of the ceiling fell in with a groan and a crash, separating Jane from Darcy and the unconscious man on the floor. Darcy darted forward with a yell, stumbling her way gracelessly over the man on the floor, and hammered against the rubble in front of her, shouting for Jane.

“I'm okay, I'm okay.” The other woman coughed from the other side of the rubble. 

“All four limbs still attached?” Darcy asked, working hard to keep her voice light but glad for the fact that Jane couldn't see that her fists were balled as she held them against the wall and that tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes. 

“All four.” Jane confirmed. “The door’s fallen in the this side as well, so I guess if you're looking for a silver lining, the hiding plan is still on track.”

“We’ll just have to wait it out. I mean, even if they're not looking for us, someone will come for Cap. Eventually.”

\--------

They’d found the shield wedged in between the elevator doors. Barton jumped down first, catching Nat easily as she slipped from the elevator floor into his waiting arms. 

“Aren’t you gonna catch me, too?” Tony winked as he prepared to jump as well, and received a hand gesture from the other man that, even though he couldn’t speak in sign language, he understood well enough. Thor, having caught up with them after doing a sweep of the tower perimeter and rounding up the last strays, grunted and gave the smaller man a hard shove.

“Yeah, thanks buddy.” Stark grumbled as he landed on his knees. Natasha side-stepped smartly as Thor followed, hammer in hand and a murderous expression painted across his face as he looked down the remains of the corridor. Barton drew an arrow and Nat cocked her gun as they advanced down towards the labs. 

\---------

"Did I kill Captain America?" Jane said miserably from the other side of the wall. Darcy looked at the prone man on the floor and bit her lip.

"Probably not." She said, extending a foot and poking him in the thigh experimentally. The man did not react. Darcy grimaced. "I mean, I tased Thor and he was alright."

"We put him in hospital, Darce." Came the forlorn reply.

"Nah, that was because you ran him over. A little electricity through the system probably did him the world of good." Darcy answered cheerily, running a hand across the broad chest of the man in front of her and panicking slightly when she couldn't see the rise and fall she'd expected.

She cursed under her breath and shuffled forward until she was practically straddling his stomach. Leaning forward she put her head close to his face and hoped to feel breath against her skin. What she got instead was two strong hands gripping at her hips, and she yelped loudly in surprise, jerking back up and away from his face.

"Darcy?" Jane's worried voice rang through the rubble.

"M'fine!" She hollered back, looking over her shoulder towards the sound of Jane’s voice. Then glancing back, found that the Captain was looking up at her dazedly. Blushing slightly, she realised she was still sat over him, legs either side of his large frame, and wriggled her way off. His fingers dug into her hips reflexively, then let her go.

"Thought we'd lost you for a minute there, buddy." She said cheerfully as he sat up, drawing his knees to his expansive chest and running at the back of his head with one hand. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, looking across at her. Then passed out again. Darcy sighed. 

“Nope.” She said quietly, more to herself than to Jane, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling and letting her head rest back against the wall and her legs extend out over his. “It looked like you hadn’t killed him for a minute or so, but now it seems you definitely have. He’s passed out cold.”

\--------

“Jane?” Thor hollered, and even Darcy could hear that through two lots of collapsed walls. She scrambled to her feet and could sense Jane doing the same on the other side of the rubble where she could not see her. 

“We’re in here!” Jane shouted, coughing slightly as the dust settled in her mouth again. 

Thor stepped back and started to swing the hammer. Nat stepped up to his shoulder and laid a hand to it. “Hold up, big guy,” She murmured. “I know you want her out of there but she said ‘we’ and we don’t want to be taking anyone’s heads off accidentally.” The hammer continued to spin for a moment before the man stepped back and hung his head, dropping the weapon by his side. 

“Just-” His voice sounded broken, and he did not lift his head as he answered. “Just get her out of there.” 

\---------

It took a little while doing it the long way round, but between them they carefully dismantled the wall and from behind it emerged a dusty but intact Jane, who was promptly scooped up into Thor’s arms. Stark rolled his eyes dramatically and Nat swatted at him, also not missing the soft look in Barton’s eyes as he watched the big blond Norseman cling onto his girl. 

“Darcy-” Jane said, peeling herself out of Thor’s arms. “Keep going, Darcy’s behind that bit.” She pointed an arm that shook slightly, and Thor wrapped his own around her waist a little tighter when he noticed the smear of blood over her forehead. Barton nodded and edged forward, wedging himself into the small space that had previously held Jane and beginning to work at the wall. 

“Oh,” said Jane, a thought occurring to her. “Captain America is in there, too.”

\---------  
Darcy coughed hard as the wall came down in front of her, and had the presence of mind to put her body across the Captain’s to shield him slightly as some of the bricks tumbled their way. It was, she reflected, somewhat redundant, as even unconscious he was undoubtedly significantly less breakable than she, but it was a reaction. 

“Darce?” Jane appearing, knocking the man who’d been working at the wall out of the way slightly in her haste to get to the little brunette. Darcy struggled upwards and then nearly backwards as Jane threw herself over the last pile of bricks and into her arms. The other girl buried her face into Darcy’s shoulder as the intern fought to stay upright. She grinned weakly through clouds of light brown hair, in her eyes and up her nose, as Thor hove into view. 

“S’what’s happenin’?” Came a groggy voice from behind them. The girls broke apart, Darcy in some relief and Jane with a small measure of guilt written across her face. The blond pushed himself up on his elbows and blinked slowly at the people around him. Natasha had picked her way through the rubble and bricks to look down at him, arms crossed. 

“Really, Rogers? Last time we send you on a rescue mission.” She said archly, a small smile playing across her lips. He grumbled but pulled himself forward, then got his legs up and under his body before throwing an arm out to the wall to steady himself. 

“You okay there, Cap?” Darcy asked in concern, laying a hand against his bicep. The blond looked down at her in confusion, like he couldn’t quite place her. She squeezed lightly and then dropped her hand. Poor guy had had several volts of electricity shot through his veins, he probably needed a minute or two to readjust. 

Jane put out a hand and helped Darcy pick her way through the rubble and back into what was left of her lab. The Captain followed, stride shaky at first but growing more solid as he moved. Thor clapped a hand to his shoulder as he emerged from the supply closet and he gave him a weak smile in return. 

“Donna.” Stark said, nodding to the little brunette being supported by Thor’s girl. 

“For the last time Stark, my name is not Donna.” She exploded. “Or Debbie. Or Dolores, or whatever else you can come up with. It's Darcy. Just Darcy!”

Stark merely grinned and put an arm out to Jane to help her over the fallen beam that had been blocking the doorway, but, to the left of her, the Captain looked a little like he had when Jane had tased him. 

“Could I-” He started, putting a hand out to her shoulder and catching her by surprise. The others were filing out of the room, Barton helping Nat where she clearly did not need him to over the same fallen beam and Steve mentally filed that one for later. Thor’s attention was entirely on Jane as he followed her into the corridor. The small girl turned to him, blue eyes wide and searching. “Could I just…” He broke off again, and she peered up at him, giving him her full attention now. 

He sighed, and decided he was never going to find the perfect words for what he was trying to say, for what he hoped was the right person, and jumped in feet first instead. “My name’s Steve.”

“Steve?” Her eyes were wide, looking up at him, and a few cogs were falling into place and whirring frantically inside her head. He crooked one side of his mouth at her, eyes crinkling and by god but Darcy didn’t know what to do with that. Now that voice sounded awfully familiar, where she’d not been expecting to hear it before, now he was there in front of her, all large and blond and looking at her like he wanted her to connect these dots up a lot faster than she was currently managing to do. The man that she’d inadvertently fallen for, the sweet, shy, awkward dude on the end of the phone, was this ridiculously cut specimen in front of her? 

Was… This hero? 

She took a step back from him. 

“Like… My... Steve?” Darcy asked hesitantly, still somehow not quite computing, though her brain was firing on every cylinder and passing back urgent messages to the main console that were shouting and repeating in the loudest possible way CAPTAIN AMERICA.

“Your Steve?” That corner of his mouth crooked even higher, if that was possible, and he looked at the floor quickly before bringing his eyes back up to hers. They looked bright and blue under the lights, and full of something that looked an awful lot like hope. “Can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.” 

Darcy didn’t quite know what to do with that either, and yet he was advancing on her, slowly but with a certain determination in the set of his chest, the way that his body swung towards hers. She shivered as his hands ghosted up her arms, but quite touching her but claiming her all the same by his movements. 

“Cap, you coming?” Stark stuck his head back into the room and Steve jerked his hands back from Darcy, colouring slightly. The dark-haired man narrowed his gaze slightly, eyes flicking between the two of them. A small grin began to creep across his face as he looked at them both. “This one needs a medical. Unless you’re offering to, uh, check her out?”


	7. Facetime

Steve waited, with a small amount of patience and a much greater deal of nerves, outside the hospital room where Darcy was getting checked out. He alternated between sitting and standing, just about stopping himself from pacing the corridor. His skin felt like it was twitching under his clothes, and he had to drop himself heavily back into the plastic chair to keep from just opening the door and barging right on in. 

After what seemed to him a pure eternity, the small white door opened and out came the doctor, looking quite surprised to suddenly find Steve’s chest in his face. Clutching his clipboard to his own chest, the smaller man stuttered and poked his glasses back further up his nose, whilst looking up at Steve in confusion. 

“Is she okay?” Steve asked, unable to keep it inside any longer. 

“M’fine.” 

Steve blinked and so did the doctor who, clearing his throat, side-stepped around him and disappeared down the corridor. Pushing the door open a little wider, Steve poked his head cautiously into the room to find the little brunette sat on the trolley-bed, swinging her legs slightly and a small smile curling at the corner of her lips as she looked back at him shyly. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding and made to step into the room, before checking himself and hesitating, realising that she’d not actually invited him in. He took a step back, then rubbed what turned out to be a clammy hand across his forehead, grip tightening on the doorframe as he second-guessed himself again. 

His internal turmoil was broken by the sound of Darcy’s laughter. 

“Come in, before you hurt yourself.” 

Flushing, he did as he was commanded and, after a moment’s thought, shut the door behind him. He came to an awkward rest in front of her, fingers twitching and fidgeting so he shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. He managed to drag his eyes up from her swinging pink converse to a pair of pretty blue eyes that were looking back at him curiously. 

“So, um,” She started, tugging at one earlobe self consciously and wrinkling her nose as she glanced up at him from her perch on the bed. “Sorry that Jane tased you.” Her teeth found her bottom lip and chewed into it as she finished speaking, squinting up at him with her dark curls tumbling haphazardly over one shoulder. 

Steve grinned, glancing at his feet and then back up at her shyly before shrugging out an answer. “I’ve had worse.”

“Okay.” She said in a small voice, still looking up at him with a curious expression on her face. “Whilst you’re in a forgiving mood, also sorry that we lugged you less-than-carefully into a supply closet, which then partially collapsed on you. Oh, and I sat on you at one point as well, but I swear I was just trying to work out if you were still breathing or not.” 

He’s a little taken aback at the sheer volume and speed of the words coming out of her, but he’s still grinning back at her like some sort of lunatic because all he can really focus on is that the girl who’s been occupying his thoughts the last couple of weeks is actually sat right in front of him. Within reaching distance, if Steve could summon the courage to do so. 

“Hey, you’re hurt.” 

Before he could think, before he realised what she was doing, she’d slipped from the gurney and was all but pressed up against him, small fingers pulling at his collar and opening it wider, inspecting a cut that graced his collarbone. Steve craned his neck to look down at her, finding her biting her lip and furrowing her brow as she took a closer look, bending up into him and balanced on her tiptoes. 

“It heals.” He said quietly, mind half on thinking about what would happen if he put his hands to her hips and drew her even closer to him, whether she’d want that, whether she’d like it. Thinking on what else he might do if she did in fact want him to put his hands upon her. “It always heals.” 

Those blue eyes peered up at him, a small amount of suspicion in them, as though she didn’t quite believe it. A fizz of electricity shot through him as he realised that it was because Darcy was worried about him, about that tiny cut that hadn’t even registered to him, it was so small. He’d not really had anyone worry about him for years now. Maybe not even since Bucky had fallen in 1944. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. 

She coughed and took a half-step back from him. Steve realised that his hands had actually been hovering mid-air around her waist, and dropped them back to his own sides with a stuttering cough of his own. Darcy threw him a smile and hopped back up onto the bed, easily jumping backwards and letting her legs swing in front of her as she settled back. An awkward moment passed between them, Steve wringing his hands and wracking his brain for something intelligent to say to her. 

“So, your friend who likes electricity?” He finally managed, arching an eyebrow at her and grimacing slightly inside. He could practically hear Bucky rolling his eyes at him and the inevitable follow up comment of smooth-Rogers-real-smooth. Steve shook away the feeling of disappointing a man half a century away, and just about stopped himself from slapping a palm to his own face. He instead concentrated on Darcy. 

“Thor.” She nodded in response, apparently blind to the inner turmoil going on inside Steve’s brain, and flashing a replica of his own crooked smile right back at him. “And your friend with a liking for suits?”

“Tony.” He grinned back, forcing himself to relax. 

“Did you ever get around to putting itching powder in one? Because I actually do have some, if you wanted-”

“As fun as that sounds, I wasn’t thinking about spending our first date getting back at Stark.” He said without really thinking, then caught the look on her face. 

“You were thinking about a first date?” 

Steve almost chokes on the next breath he takes in, and stumbles over his own tongue in his haste to try and rectify the situation. Her pretty blue eyes are looking up at him and he cannot read the emotion that’s running through them right now. He’d thought… He’d honestly thought that there might be something between them, something that not only he wanted to explore. And now he’d gone and put his foot in it. 

“I, um.” He found himself stuttering slightly over his words, what little confidence he had draining away through his feet. “I mean, I - well, I kind of thought, but then we hadn't, and I didn't, um-”

“I just didn't think you'd be interested.” Darcy said quietly, with a nonchalant shrug of her small shoulders, easily cutting through his babble with her eyes on her shoes as though they were the most interesting thing in the world, still swinging lightly in front of her. Steve found his jaw dropping open as he looked down at the petite girl sat in front of him. 

“Why?’ He asked in honest confusion.

Darcy gaped at him in return, her eyes snapping back up instantly from her feet to his face. “Have you seen you lately?” She said, waving a hand at him and gesturing across his chest. 

“I’m afraid I don't… What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Dude. You’re an honest to goodness superhero. I’ve seen your picture on billboards.”

“And you’re the girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.” He responded earnestly, and that stopped her in her tracks. Looking down, Steve realised he’d inadvertently taken a step closer to her as he was speaking, and was practically stood between her legs. Darcy’s eyes flickered over him and she gulped heavily. 

“Darcy, I-” He broke off and looked a little sheepish before starting up again. “I don’t mean to be forward but maybe this would clear a few things up?” With that, he brought a careful hand to her cheek, slipping his fingers down the smooth skin there carefully until they were tipping her chin up towards him slightly. She breathed out and he could feel the ghost of it against his lips as he bent his head to hers. 

“Hey Cap, you done in here?”

Steve jumped back, dropping his hand from her face, and Darcy jerked away, near throwing herself flat back against the bed as a tall black man stuck his head in the room. His open, honest face fell slightly as he looked between the pair of them. 

“Sam-” Steve choked out. 

“Sorry, did I…?” The other man trailed off, looking askance at Steve, confusion rolling across his face as he waited for some kind of answer. Darcy, feeling a hot flush flash across her cheeks, burning a deep pink, shuffled off the bed awkwardly, opting to save the big blond the embarrassment of trying to explain to his friend whilst she was still in the room with them. 

“I need to get back to the, uh, well. I guess not the lab.” She laughed, the sound of it a little high in the small room, and jerking a thumb over her shoulder as she spoke. She was stepping backwards nervously at the same time, almost bumping into Sam as he lounged awkwardly in the doorway. “But I should probably go find Jane, make sure she’s not causing trouble anywhere.”

With that, she shot back out of the door and down the hallway. 

“Steve?” Sam turned from the doorway and Darcy’s disappearing back to his friend, who’d sat down heavily on the med bay bed and was rubbing a hand through his already dishevelled blond hair. 

\------

“Hey, Darce.” 

Jane looked up from the hospital bed she was lying in, rubbing absentmindedly at the drip in her arm, and smiled a slightly bleary grin at the brunette who wandered through the door and dropped, groaning, into the armchair beside the bed. Jane’s forehead crinkled slightly as she looked over at her friend, who had drawn her knees to her chest and flopped her head right down into them, arms wrapped tight around her thighs and dark hair falling across them. 

“What’s up with you?” 

“Nothin’” Came the muffled reply. 

Jane rolled her eyes. 

“M’not stupid, Lewis. Even if I did get hit on the head by falling plaster, I’m still a Nobel Prize nominated scientist. So spill.” She accompanied the last by sliding a bare leg from under the covers and angling a firm poke of her sock-covered toes sharply into Darcy’s thigh, drawing a yelp from the other girl and smiling like a cat in satisfaction at the sound. 

“Mean.” Darcy grumbled, throwing her head back and gracing Jane with a faux-annoyed look. Jane shuffled left slightly and patted the miniscule amount of free space she’d made in the little bed. Darcy let her shoulders slump down for a moment, then shifted herself up and out of the armchair. She slid into the bed beside Jane, one leg still dangling precariously off the edge of it and sighed heavily, letting her head fall onto the other girl’s shoulder. Jane petted Darcy’s hair comfortingly, resting her head against the other girl’s. 

“It’s Steve.” Darcy mumbled, mouth half obscured by Jane’s shoulder. 

“Mmmmm? Did he call again?” Jane asked, mostly listening but also finding her fingers caught in one of Darcy’s curls and trying awkwardly to extricate it without yanking the younger girl’s head back. Darcy shook her head and Jane swatted at her for the movement, just about managing to pull her fingers free of the mess of hair. 

“No, I mean… It’s Steve. He’s Steve.” Darcy put her head in her hands before she continued, voice muffled again by her palms. “He’s Captain America.” Jane poked at her a little, not quite catching what she’d said. Darcy rolled her head back and half-shouted it in frustration, not at Jane but at the situation she’d somehow found herself in. 

“Steve. Is. Captain. America.” 

Jane sat up abruptly in the bed, the bouncing sudden movement dislodging Darcy who’d only been half-balanced on it anyway, and promptly fell off the narrow bed with an undignified squawk. Sprawled on her ass on the parquet floor and wincing slightly at the jarring sensation shooting up her right arm, she looked up to see Jane staring back down at her, hands clutching at the edge of the bed, eyes wide. 

“You’re joking.” 

“If it is a joke, it’s worse than Stark’s dad jokes.” Darcy dead-panned back, only half finding it amusing herself, and hauling her ass back into the arm chair at the side of the bed for safety. Jane settled back into the pillows, clearly mulling it all over in her head. The girls sat in relative silence for a moment or two as they contemplated the situation. 

“But you started speaking to him because he rang-”

“Yup.”

“Right.”

They fell back into contemplative silence, Darcy pulling at the hem of her knitted sweater and watching morosely as it began to unravel. She yanked at one thread and felt part of the back of the top tighten around her waist. Jane stared at the wall opposite, looking but not really seeing her reflection in the flat screen TV bolted to it. 

“I tased him.” She said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Yup.” Darcy nodded. 

“You think that counts as an act of terrorism?”

Darcy considered, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her palms and hugging her knees to her chest again. She raised her shoulders in a don’t-ask-me-I’m-just-the-intern movement she’d perfected around two weeks after she’d first started working for Jane. 

“So are you gonna-”

“No idea.”

“Huh.”

\------

“Just run it past me again.” 

Steve fought the urge to groan as Sam started up for the fourth time, and wished he’d never told him the full story. Or any part of it, really. He also wished quite strongly that Sam had managed to hold off looking for him for another five minutes. 

“So you rang a sex line-”

“Not intentionally-” Steve protested, feeling that this was a point he needed to drive home as hard as possible. Sam threw him a look of pure disbelief and Steve dropped his arms wide as if to say come-on-Sam. The other man rolled his eyes and continued. 

“So you accidentally-” He emphasised the last word heavily and threw Steve a look whilst doing it. Steve, for his part, assumed that a ninety five year old man probably shouldn’t go sticking his tongue out as a response to another person. At least in public. 

“-Rang a sex line, and this Darcy answered.” 

“Yes.” Steve agreed in a low voice, nodding, but also casting his gaze around them as they wandered down the corridor, gesturing to Sam to keep his damn voice down. “But I didn’t know what it was, and Stark set me up.” This he said with some feeling, still smarting that the other man had tricked him into calling something he’d never have been interested in. Then again, it had led him to Darcy. Sort of. If she ever spoke to him again, which, based on the way she’d scarpered wasn’t looking like something he’d be able to count on. 

“So when you told me therapy,” Sam said slowly, turning to Steve with an arched eyebrow. 

“That’s what he told me it was,” Steve protested. Sam snorted. 

“Horizontal therapy, more like.” The blond did not reply but instead shot the other man back a withering look. Sam held his hands up and gallantly tried to hold back his laughter. He mostly succeeded. Clapping a hand to his chest and biting down hard on the closed fist of his other hand, Sam fought to control himself and calm the need to chuckle over the look on Steve’s face. 

“Alright, alright.” He managed, choking slightly, but finally able to form words properly. “So you started up some kind of phone-call-based relationship, in which you in no way talked about sex-” Steve glared at him again. “And then the world and his wife smashed up to the tower to get to the labs, Jane tased the shit out of you - that’s not going away for a while, by the way - and then you realised her intern is phone-sex girl. Did I leave anything out?”

Steve, sighing, shook his head. 

“And then I interrupted you.” 

\-------

“And then he interrupted you?”

Darcy had finished catching Jane up on the whole sorry affair after the doctor had been back to check her over fully and pronounce that she was okay to go back to the apartment. She turned her back to the other girl as she struggled herself back into her jeans and shirt, Darcy taking the opportunity to stare out of the window at the bustle of the city in front of her. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky, and Darcy’s stomach gave a small but insistent rumble, reminding her that, after all the excitement of the day, she’d not actually yet had lunch. 

“And then he interrupted us.” She confirmed, head turning over her shoulder and back at Jane who was shaking her head in disappointment. 

“Not much of a wingman, is he?” She said, and Darcy snorted. “C’mon, let’s go back to the apartment, I’m starved.” She gave a pointed look towards Darcy’s stomach as she spoke, and Darcy grinned and bounced across the room to hold the door for her boss. She made a mock curtsey as Jane ducked under her arm, and got a punch to the arm for her troubles. 

“Hey, no physical altercations in the workplace,” She protested as they began to make their way down the corridor towards the elevators. “I’ll have to put in a formal complaint with Human Resources about your inappropriate conduct. And you tased a national icon, so your card is marked, woman.” Jane rolled her eyes and shoved her in response. 

“Oh, hold the door would you?” Jane said loudly, catching sight of it up ahead and speeding up slightly as the doors began to shut on the elevator. A large hand thrust out and wedged between the chrome doors, forcing them back open again. Jane grabbed Darcy’s hand and hurried her along the last few steps towards the elevator. 

“Thanks!” She said gratefully, and looked up into Captain America’s face. 

The man, however, wasn’t looking at her, but rather over her shoulder and directly at Darcy who had frozen solid in the doorway. The doors started to close again and she yelped as they shut on her shoulders. The big blond threw out both hands, caging around Jane and Darcy and held open the doors as he looked down at her with hope in his eyes.

Jane reached behind her and grabbed Darcy’s hand again, yanking her bodily into the small room. The tall black man stood behind the Captain, lounging against the back wall, stood up a little straighter when he noticed his friend wasn’t moving. Jane tilted her head around the bulk of the man in front of her and made a face at the other man. 

Sam looked back at the small woman in confusion, and tried to work out what the odd expressions she was making at him were supposed to mean. Giving up, Jane said loudly, to no one in particular, “The doctor said it would help me recover more quickly if I took the stairs instead of the elevator.” With that, she began to back out of the space, eyes narrowed at the other man and jerking her head in what she hoped was an inconspicuous fashion. 

Finally, he seemed to cotton on, and, in a wholly unconvincing tone added, “My physiotherapist said it was better to take the stairs every other time.” He darted out of the elevator as Steve pulled his arms back, a puzzled look on his face, and the doors shut firmly on both him and Darcy. Jane folded her arms in satisfaction. 

“Jane, right?” Sam turned to the petite woman beside him. 

“Sam, I presume?” Jane looked up at him. “Interrupter extraordinaire.”

“Girl who took out Captain America.” He countered easily. She grinned. 

\------

Steve took a shuddering breath inwards as the elevator rumbled into action, and shot out a hand reflexively as Darcy stumbled slightly when it started to move. His large hand on her waist, she looked down at it and then back up at him with wide blue eyes. 

“Uh, sorry-” He apologised quickly and made to move it back, but she slipped one of her own over it and squeezed. Steve felt his heart jump in his chest and his mouth stutter into a smile. Darcy took a half-step closer to him, then another and another until she was almost pressed against his chest. 

She looked up at him, tipping her head back to fix him in the eye, and he took the opportunity to slip his hand further around her waist and drew her closer into his body. He could hear her heart hammering against her rib cage and it beat in tandem with his own. Steve swallowed hard, and sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he looked down at her. 

“So maybe that thing that you were going to clear up earlier, you have time to explain properly now?” Darcy said shyly, as she raised herself on tiptoes and tentatively placed her palms against his broad chest, fingertips spread and she internally marvelling at the heat that was rolling off him. 

“Yes ma’am.” Steve answered instantly, and brought his free hand to the side of her cheek, tipping her face up and letting his fingers slide down to her chin. Taking a deep breath in and bringing his lips to hers, he paused for a moment to revel in the fact that he finally, finally, had her in his arms. 

The doors pinged open and Steve, turning his head and blinking at the sudden light, arms still firmly intertwined around Darcy, found Tony Stark staring back at him. The dark haired man let his jaw drop open, coffee in one hand and bagel in the other as he looked back at the pair in the elevator. 

“Uh, Rogers-”

“No.” Steve growled, and slammed a fist against button to close the doors. They pinged back shut, leaving a surprised Stark stood in front of them on the thirty first floor.


	8. Caller Engaged

Steve looked back at the girl in his arms shyly, even as he had both arms wrapped around her and he’d just pounded the hell out of the elevator buttons. He wasn’t even sure which ones he’d pressed - he thought, maybe, as it jerked into motion and the little brunette fell into his embrace again, he might have hit all of them. He wasn’t sure he cared. 

“I didn't mean to, uh, well - it's just that Tony… And you see, he's really-”

His final words were muffled, lost as Darcy stretched upwards as far as she could, balanced on tiptoes and kissed him, hard. Steve blinked in surprise, then found his way to kissing her back. One hand splayed over her lower back and the other edging upwards to cup her cheek carefully, he could feel his heart thump harder and harder. 

Darcy locked her arms around his neck and he smiled into her, not quite able to believe his luck as she continued to chase his mouth with her own. Steve let his tongue run across the edge of her lower lip before kissing her firmly, pleased to hear a soft moan from her. She tugged him closer to her and he went willingly. 

“Good morning, Captain Rogers. Miss Lewis.” 

They jerked apart, arms still locked around each other and blinking dazedly as Pepper Potts entered the elevator. Steve’s eyes dropped to the flashing panel of buttons and noted with grimace that he had, in fact, hit most of them. The smartly-dressed redhead nodded to them cordially and transferred her purse to the crook of her left arm, easily balancing it alongside the coffee cup she was holding, and stretched a graceful finger over to select the 49th floor button. 

Steve, arm still curled around Darcy’s waist, swallowed. Darcy, who had one hand gripping at his collar and the other frozen in the act of tracing soft circles on the back of Steve’s neck, stared at the slim back of Stark Industries’ CEO as she studiously gazed up at the digital floor count overhead and politely ignored the pair behind her. 

He felt as though he were holding his breath, caught in a desperate desire to capture Darcy once more and to hell with whatever social etiquette told him, and a flush of embarrassment at being caught. Finally, the elevator slid to a smooth halt and the doors pinged open. Pepper exited and, just as Steve was breathing a sigh of relief, the redhead turned on one delicate heel and smiled at him.

“Might I recommend a more private setting, Captain? Perhaps your apartment? Or Miss Lewis’?” She winked and slipped away as the doors shut again.

“You live here too?” Steve looked down at Darcy, a look of confusion mixed with a certain amount of extremely slow dawning realisation creeping across his face. She nodded back at him, a little uncertain as she took in his expression. 

“With Jane.” She clarified, then rolled her eyes. “And, I guess, with Thor.”

“You live with… Oh, god.” Steve stepped back and rested his head against the chrome wall of the elevator, running a hand over his chin and shaking his head. 

“What?” Darcy asked, looking at him with some concern. 

“It’s just-” He broke off, and laughed. “It’s just, you live below me.” 

“Think of all the money you could have saved. You could’ve just shouted through the floor. Or gotten paper cups and string.” Darcy offered, shrugging slightly as she looked up at him, wrapping her arms around herself to replace some of the warmth she’d lose as he’d stepped back. 

“It’s not phone calls I was thinking on.” 

Darcy raised an eyebrow at that, and Steve flushed badly. 

“We could go to my apartment.” Steve said, then quickly backtracked, realising how he’d made it sound. He rushed onward, trying desperately to fix a poor situation. “I mean, just because - because there’s only me, and you can have a shower if you want one-”

“That sounds okay,” Darcy said, interrupting what looked as though it might become a runaway monologue. She smiled up at the big blond, who was still pink across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears as he looked back at her. “Doubly so if there’s food in the equation at all, I can’t actually remember the last time I ate something.”

“I definitely have food,” Steve nodded, and then wondered if he actually did. He seemed to exist these days on takeaways, the remnants of which tended to pile up on the kitchen counter. And sometimes the kitchen table. Steve suddenly thought to himself that, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to invite Darcy back to his apartment, struggling to remember what state he’d left it in. 

The doors pinged to signify they were closing once more, and he blinked, turning his head to look at them. Glancing back at Darcy, the girl standing by the elevator buttons and circling one index finger over them whilst throwing him an eyebrow. Steve took two long strides across the elevator and covered her hand with his own, pressing her extended finger gently to his floor number. 

The elevator shuddered into action again, heading upwards. 

“I think I owe you dinner,” Steve said, still standing just in front of her and one large hand still covering her own small one. His blue eyes flickered over her, his free hand itching slightly as it hung at his side, wondering if he could wrap it around her waist once more and bring her close against him. 

“You're the superhero one man rescue squad,” Darcy laughed in response, throwing her head back as she did so. “Pretty sure it should be me buying you dinner.”

“I think you rescued yourself,” he grinned, looking down at her. “And you hauled me into that supply closet.”

Darcy blushed pink. 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled, kicking at the floor awkwardly with one foot. “That wouldn't have been necessary if Jane hadn't dropped you with ten thousand volts to the back, so we're probably square.”

\----------

“So this is where Captain America lays his head, huh?”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said with a small smile, holding the door open and letting Darcy duck under his arm. He caught a waft of her perfume, something floral and fresh, as she passed close by him. “But this is where Steve Rogers lives.”

The petite brunette took a few steps into his living room, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing around the room. Steve shut the door behind him and surreptitiously nudged a pair of worn socks under the nearest armchair. 

“Did you want, uh,” Steve’s voice failed him as she turned on her heel to look up at him, clear blue eyes focusing on him, and him alone. He watched as a slow smile crept from one side of her mouth to the other, until she was grinning up at her and those blue eyes crinkling in amusement. He shook his head slightly and tried again. 

“Did you want a shower?”

“That would be pretty nice, actually,” Darcy admitted, clapping a hand to her sweater covered arm wryly and causing a small dust cloud of plaster to surround her. She gave him a wry look as it resettled. 

Steve led the way to his bathroom, and held the door open for her.

“There’s towels, and, uh, shower gel - but it’s not very feminine…” Steve said, one hand behind his head and rubbing at his neck as he realised that the functional stuff he usually showered with might very well not appeal to Darcy. 

“I don’t mind if I wind up smelling like you,” she said with a one-shouldered shrug, and disappeared into the bathroom, the door locking shut after her with a click. Steve blinked, and took a moment to chase away the thought of a Darcy that smelled like him. A Darcy that was his alone. 

He wandered back to his bedroom, and eyed it thoughtfully. He’d not gotten a whole lot of sleep, one way or another, the last week or so. Darcy was sure to take a little while in the bathroom. Steve could afford to steal a few winks waiting on her. 

He clambered onto the bed and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, not bothering to toe off his shoes or get under the coverlet. His last thought before darkness crept over him was the memory of Darcy pressing her lips against his with her hands wrapped firmly around his neck. 

\--------

Steve jerked awake to an odd sound of the radio playing - music of a type that he’d never choose to listen to - and, even odder, the smell of bacon cooking. He blinked, disoriented, trying to place himself. For an instant he was back in the ice, coming to and gasping, one hand outstretched and clutching at the shirt collar of the nearest man to him. They told him that it had never happened, that he’d only woken up in the SHIELD facility, but he’d had the nightmare often enough that it might as well have been real. 

He shook his head and recalibrated. 

This was his bed, his sheets. He could feel his toes wriggle in his boots - and realised that he’d fallen asleep on top of the bed, again, still clothed. Steve ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, dishevelling it. Sitting up blearily, he swung himself off the bed and stood up. 

Steve pushed open the door to the kitchen and stood stock still in surprise, the door careering back and hitting him in the chest before he flung out an arm to stop it bouncing away. He just about resisted the rising urge to rub his eyes. Darcy, dark hair curled even more than it had been before, wearing one of his shirts - long on her, hitting mid-thigh - had taken over his kitchen. 

As he looked on, the radio blaring and the girl nodding her head in time to the music coming out of it, the kettle whistled loudly and Darcy slid across the tiles towards it. 

“Hey, Steve,” she said brightly, tilting her head to one side and letting her dark hair fall over one shoulder as she gazed up at him. Steve’s subconscious told him loudly that the dark blue of his shirt, hanging off her it was so large on her petite frame, perfectly complemented her pale skin. He tried to ignore the other part that whispered to him about how Darcy hadn’t managed to match all the buttons to the correct holes, and the little gaps that showed interesting hints at what lay underneath as she shifted in front of him. 

“I figured you’d be hungry, but I didn’t know what you’d wanna eat,” she said with a twist to her lower lip, catching it with her teeth as she glanced behind her at everything that was cooking. She looked back to him and grinned. “Then I figured, it’s your food in the fridge, so you must like it. So I kinda-”

“Cooked all of it,” Steve laughed, stepping forward. 

“Well, you’re-” she gestured at him, cutting herself off before running a hand back through her tangled hair and giving him that funny little crooked smile again. “I guessed it takes a fair amount of food to keep all that going.”

“It’s really not the worst thing I’ve found in this kitchen,” he said, slipping into one of the stools on the other side of the counter, watching her as she turned back to the frying pan and snatched up the black plastic spatula she’d left resting on the worktop.

“Do I wanna know what was the worst thing?” Darcy asked without looking back at him. 

“Probably not,” Steve grinned, indulging himself in watching as the girl bounced her way to the beat of the music from the frying pan to the toaster , pausing only at the coffee maker to pull out the jug and pour a cup. She twisted on her heel, bending toward him over the counter and sliding the mug over to Steve. He took a long sip, enjoying the bitter flavour against his tongue. 

“So… The guy that pretended to be a dog-”

“Seriously?” Darcy’s jaw dropped open and hung there as she stared at him, spatula in hand and the bacon sizzling merrily in the pan behind her. “That’s all you’ve got to ask about? The dog guy?”

“I mean-” Steve shrugged from the other side of the counter, his feet hooked around the chrome legs of it. “That’s not exactly normal, is it?” Darcy laughed and turned most of her attention back to the bacon, flipping it expertly before grabbing a fork to pierce the sausages that were frying happily alongside. 

“Spend a couple of hours on that phone line and you’ll start to re-evaluate your concept of ‘normal’,” she snorted to herself, then stiffened slightly. Steve could see the set of her shoulders change, moving back under his shirt, obvious even under the loose material. Her head tilted forward minutely, and Steve could practically see the purse of her lips together before she continued. 

“I guess…” She trailed off awkwardly, and didn’t turn to meet his eyes. “I guess a lot of stuff isn’t exactly normal to a guy who was kicking it in the 1930s.”

“I’m not sure I was kicking much of anything in the 30s.” Steve smiled from behind Darcy, and hoped that she could tell that he wasn’t much bothered by what she evidently thought might be a challenge for him. He was graced with her head twisted over her shoulder, just for a moment, with a flash of wide blue eyes and the hint of a smile through the mess of dark curls. 

Ten minutes later, she announced she was ready to plate up, and where the hell did he keep his dishes anyway? Steve, laughing again, slid off the stool and reached up behind her where she was stood by the stove. He could feel her hair tickling against his chest where his own shirt fell open slightly, and Darcy leaned back on him as he stretched around her. 

“Plates,” Steve said softly, mouth against her ear and warm breath ruffling her hair a little as he spoke. He brought them down around her, his arms caging her against the kitchen counter as he placed one dish either side. Darcy twisted in his arms so that she was facing him, looking up, and Steve rested his hands on the counter. 

“Thanks,” the girl smiled, and tilted her head back further so that she could look at him properly in the eye. She walked two fingers of her right hand up his torso until she had her hand over his heart, then placed her palm against him. Steve took a deep breath. 

“Now go sit down, I’m making breakfast here,” Darcy said, shoving at him with the flat of her hand and a smile in her voice. The movement did nothing to Steve but he moved back anyway, hands up in surrender and backing away to take his seat once more. Darcy watched him with folded arms and that same crooked smile that was starting to tug somewhere deep inside his chest every time he saw her make it. 

Eventually, they were both sat in front of two mostly empty plates, him on one side of the little island and Darcy on the other. She’d grown progressively quieter, her movements slowing and her eyelids drooping. 

“You tired, Darcy?” Steve asked, running his eyes over her. 

“No,” she said instantly, blinking her eyes open wider from where they’d been threatening to close, and shaking her head vehemently. Steve watched, hiding his smile behind his coffee mug as the petite brunette stifled a yawn behind one hand and then dropped her chin into it, her elbow catching on the counter and propping her up as she looked back at him sleepily. 

“M’fine,” she said, slipping sideways off the stool. Steve was out of his own before Darcy dropped any further than a couple of inches, scooping her up into his arms and cradling her against his broad chest. 

“You need to sleep,” he said, voice serious, as he looked down at the girl in his arms. She mumbled something incomprehensible, and Steve started walking, nudging the door to his bedroom open with his hips and careful to pull her in closer so as not to catch her head on the door frame. 

He wrapped one arm around her, shifting her slightly against him as he bent to haul back the coverlet. Carefully lowering Darcy into it and pulling up the duvet over her shoulders, Steve looked over her fondly before turning on his heel to walk away. 

“Where’re you goin’?”

Steve paused, twisting back towards his bed and the petite girl huddled in the middle of it. 

“I, uh-”

“You’re tired, too.” She was faintly accusing as she spoke, eyes narrowed a little even as she burrowed into the pillows and drew the duvet up around her shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offered, somehow turning even as he spoke and trailing a light hand over her shoulder as he looked down at her snuggled into his bed. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she grumbled, face half turned into the pillow. “S’your bed, idiot. Jus’ get in it already.” 

He hesitated, heart thumping hard inside his chest and so loud the blood in his ears that he thought she must be able to hear it as well. Darcy, however, shuffled herself to one side and pulled back the covers, giving him a narrowed eye look as she did so. 

Steve Rogers had proved himself more than a little slow on the uptake through most of the time he’d known Darcy, and was no longer going to let himself fall behind. He sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight and Darcy rolling toward the indent he’d made. He unlaced his shoes slowly and pulled them off, one at a time. 

His socks he balled together and threw - poorly - in the direction of the laundry basket in the corner of the room. It hit the wall and bounced back, rolling under the bed. Darcy laughed and Steve twisted where he sat to poke her gently in the ribs in response. She wriggled away from him, laughter lighting up her eyes, clutching at the blankets and drawing them to her chest. 

Steve stood, unbuckling his belt and then popping the buttons on his jeans. He was cautious, and slow, eyes a little nervous and fixed on Darcy, ready to haul the whole lot right back up again at the slightest hint of discomfort from the girl. Instead she yawned again, hiding her pretty face behind her palm, eyes sleepily running over him. 

He let the jeans drop to the floor and stepped out of them, one leg and then the other. He glanced down at his shirt, wondering if it was clean enough to leave on. 

“Lose it, Rogers,” Darcy mumbled, and he could see she was starting to lose the battle against her tiredness, burrowed into the pillows. He complied, stripping the shirt up and over his head and dropping it to the floor with his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers. Steve slid into the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight again. 

“G’night,” Darcy mumbled again, words only just recognisable. Steve leaned toward her and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. 

“Night, Darcy,” he said quietly. 

\--------

They awoke tangled together, her head on his chest and one arm looped over him, he with his own arm curled around her possessively and his head resting against the top of hers. Steve wasn’t sure he could point to the last time he’d awoken from sleep feeling rested. What he did know was that he was in no hurry to move. 

Steve thought back over what had happened, from the elevator to breakfast. Then groaned loudly. Darcy stirred against him, pushing her head back until she could fix him with a questioning look, one eye cracked open and the other squeezed shut as though she too was in no hurry to change their circumstance. 

“I was supposed to buy you dinner, and you've cooked and then we've lost most of a day to sleep,” Steve explained, his free hand running through his hair as he grimaced down at the girl. 

“Well shucks, soldier,” Darcy said evenly. “Guess I'll just have to see you again so you can pay off your debt.”


End file.
